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 Denmark and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Blues Magoos to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Reuben Wilson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
H. Thieme,
Skarface,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Litter,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cowsills,
Crispian St. Peters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Hot Snakes,
Joensuu 1685,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Searchers,
The Cramps,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yusef Lateef,
Con Funk Shun,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Underground Resistance,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bronski Beat,
Bill Near,
Black Bananas,
Hasil Adkins,
Surgeon,
Organ,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Television Personalities,
The Names,
Technova,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster,
Sam Rivers,
Fatback Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Livin' Joy,
Wings,
Sparks,
Blossom Toes,
Trumans Water,
Blancmange,
Main Source,
Royal Trux,
Ice-T,
Nas,
L. Decosne,
Fat Boys,
Soft Cell,
The Star Department,
Tears for Fears,
Radio Birdman,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The United States of America,
The Alarm Clocks,
Accadde A,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.