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 Barbados and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Carl Craig to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ludus,
Cluster,
Joe Smooth,
The Victims,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Byrd,
Whodini,
Slick Rick,
Carl Craig,
The American Breed,
Robert Hood,
The Star Department,
Marmalade,
Grey Daturas,
Public Enemy,
Porter Ricks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
June Days,
Albert Ayler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Easy Going,
Nirvana,
Ohio Players,
Joy Division,
Scott Walker,
Ten City,
Arthur Verocai,
Infiniti,
The Techniques,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Barclay James Harvest,
Moebius,
Quantec,
Das Ding,
Echospace,
Ultra Naté,
Dennis Brown,
The Stooges,
Theoretical Girls,
Section 25,
Kenny Larkin,
Chrome,
New York Dolls,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fortunes,
Desert Stars,
The Doors,
Index,
Josef K,
Essential Logic,
The Cramps,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Flipper,
The Happenings,
Deakin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.