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 Finland 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro 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 Ludus to the punk 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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Black Sheep,
The Kinks,
T. Rex,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Sneak,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fugs,
Cybotron,
The Birthday Party,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hoover,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Peter & Gordon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crooked Eye,
Television,
Franke,
Index,
The Sound,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Cecil Taylor,
Junior Murvin,
Monks,
the Slits,
Mantronix,
Eden Ahbez,
New York Dolls,
Funky Four + One,
The Durutti Column,
Laurel Aitken,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lucky Dragons,
Sixth Finger,
The Pretty Things,
Dark Day,
Scientists,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soft Cell,
Guru Guru,
The Slits,
Ponytail,
Fela Kuti,
Livin' Joy,
Cameo,
X-102,
The Walker Brothers,
The Names,
Tomorrow,
The Cramps,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nils Olav,
Pantaleimon,
Gabor Szabo,
Moebius,
Clear Light,
Funkadelic,
Camberwell Now,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.