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 Spain and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Slits to the grime 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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
Glenn Branca,
Reuben Wilson,
Deakin,
Grey Daturas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ituana,
The Pop Group,
Moss Icon,
Rites of Spring,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Neu!,
kango's stein massive,
the Association,
Bobby Womack,
Hasil Adkins,
Motorama,
Inner City,
China Crisis,
Big Daddy Kane,
David Bowie,
U.S. Maple,
Gang Starr,
Buzzcocks,
Accadde A,
Pole,
John Coltrane,
Trumans Water,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ossler,
Ornette Coleman,
Cybotron,
Stiv Bators,
Simply Red,
Brass Construction,
Average White Band,
Angry Samoans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Brick,
These Immortal Souls,
Echospace,
Ice-T,
Bill Wells,
Masters at Work,
Ponytail,
Matthew Bourne,
The Wake,
a-ha,
Man Eating Sloth,
Little Man,
Soul II Soul,
Soft Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nik Kershaw,
Nico,
Fat Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Motions,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Gun Club,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.