Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Rwanda and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kevin Saunderson to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Lyres,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Searchers,
Laurel Aitken,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Audionom,
Henry Cow,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Association,
Hardrive,
Fugazi,
Ossler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Freddie Wadling,
Robert Hood,
Todd Terry,
Wally Richardson,
Funkadelic,
The Remains,
Negative Approach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Skatalites,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Anakelly,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Don Cherry,
James White and The Blacks,
Blake Baxter,
the Normal,
Pere Ubu,
Harry Pussy,
The Trojans,
B.T. Express,
Visage,
Robert Wyatt,
the Germs,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skarface,
Reuben Wilson,
Pantytec,
Franke,
Arcadia,
Tropical Tobacco,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Cluster,
Jeff Mills,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Index,
Boz Scaggs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Maurizio,
The Pop Group,
Newcleus,
KRS-One,
One Last Wish,
Masters at Work,
Thee Headcoats,
Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.