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 Jamaica and from Woodstock.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Angry Samoans to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Newcleus,
Franke,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Urselle,
Marine Girls,
The Trojans,
Davy DMX,
Ken Boothe,
Barry Ungar,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fire Engines,
The Fall,
The Sound,
Altered Images,
Symarip,
Joyce Sims,
Ossler,
Arthur Verocai,
Ludus,
Blossom Toes,
Skaos,
Gong,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boz Scaggs,
Cheater Slicks,
Ponytail,
Patti Smith,
Silicon Teens,
The Skatalites,
Khruangbin,
Eden Ahbez,
Susan Cadogan,
Flash Fearless,
Glambeats Corp.,
Minny Pops,
Model 500,
Ultimate Spinach,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sandy B,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Absolute Body Control,
Neu!,
Visage,
Kerrie Biddell,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Terry Callier,
Deakin,
The Index,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Max Romeo,
Shoche,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crispy Ambulance,
Funkadelic,
Kenny Larkin,
Morten Harket,
Ice-T,
Tommy Roe,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.