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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pop Group 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
The Monochrome Set,
World's Most,
The Star Department,
Matthew Halsall,
Panda Bear,
Electric Prunes,
Circle Jerks,
Agitation Free,
F. McDonald,
Symarip,
Ituana,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Golliwogs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pussy Galore,
Matthew Bourne,
The Neon Judgement,
Chris & Cosey,
Buzzcocks,
Gabor Szabo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Chrome,
Suburban Knight,
Joe Smooth,
Susan Cadogan,
Crooked Eye,
Bad Manners,
Grauzone,
The Kinks,
X-102,
Gastr Del Sol,
Alison Limerick,
The Dead C,
Eden Ahbez,
The Blues Magoos,
Sound Behaviour,
Accadde A,
The Alarm Clocks,
Reagan Youth,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Roxy Music,
Organ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Pus,
The Selecter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Public Enemy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Byron Stingily,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Martian,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wings,
Suicide,
The Mummies,
the Human League,
Barclay James Harvest,
Television Personalities,
Radio Birdman,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.