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 Milan.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tremeloes to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barry Ungar,
Blancmange,
Althea and Donna,
Franke,
The Gories,
Nirvana,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slick Rick,
New Age Steppers,
Amon Düül II,
Bootsy Collins,
Clear Light,
Gong,
Byron Stingily,
Roxy Music,
Ronan,
Sandy B,
Swans,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gun Club,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Selecter,
Fat Boys,
Max Romeo,
Electric Prunes,
Carl Craig,
Davy DMX,
Throbbing Gristle,
H. Thieme,
The Red Krayola,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
a-ha,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cecil Taylor,
The Tremeloes,
The Names,
Masters at Work,
James Chance & The Contortions,
MC5,
EPMD,
cv313,
Kas Product,
Bill Near,
Country Teasers,
Interpol,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Fuzztones,
Los Fastidios,
Outsiders,
Radio Birdman,
The Toasters,
Y Pants,
Q and Not U,
The Music Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Eden Ahbez,
The Stooges,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.