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 Syria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the rap 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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Normal,
Los Fastidios,
Q and Not U,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Soft Cell,
Quando Quango,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Subhumans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Television,
kango's stein massive,
The Fortunes,
Lucky Dragons,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Von Mondo,
Erykah Badu,
Nas,
Magma,
Ken Boothe,
Pierre Henry,
Sarah Menescal,
Nik Kershaw,
The Selecter,
the Slits,
Dead Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cramps,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Patti Smith,
DJ Style,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DJ Sneak,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Red Krayola,
Roy Ayers,
Mantronix,
Ossler,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Wyatt,
Kayak,
Susan Cadogan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nico,
The Knickerbockers,
The Martian,
Lyres,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Warren Ellis,
FM Einheit,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Morten Harket,
B.T. Express,
Sun Ra,
Boredoms,
Silicon Teens,
Jacques Brel,
Rakim,
Oblivians,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Blackbyrds,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.