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 Iraq and from Manchester.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Golliwogs to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Subhumans,
Yaz,
T. Rex,
Sex Pistols,
These Immortal Souls,
8 Eyed Spy,
One Last Wish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boogie Down Productions,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Cramps,
Scientists,
Ohio Players,
Junior Murvin,
Blake Baxter,
Gabor Szabo,
Gil Scott Heron,
John Coltrane,
Electric Prunes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
ABBA,
Popol Vuh,
The Moody Blues,
The Detroit Cobras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Unwound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Scrapy,
the Slits,
Ice-T,
Pantytec,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Music Machine,
Black Pus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Brothers Johnson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Juan Atkins,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Audionom,
Mark Hollis,
Tres Demented,
Brick,
EPMD,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Moleskins,
Niagra,
Interpol,
Mr. Review,
Sugar Minott,
Metal Thangz,
Sister Nancy,
Ronan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Star Department,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barrington Levy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gichy Dan,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.