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 Romania 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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Ken Boothe,
Cybotron,
Kevin Saunderson,
F. McDonald,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Wake,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lungfish,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Maurizio,
The Young Rascals,
Dual Sessions,
DJ Sneak,
Pylon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Howard Jones,
Joe Finger,
Minor Threat,
Black Moon,
Kaleidoscope,
Hashim,
Derrick May,
Sparks,
the Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Warren Ellis,
Ultra Naté,
Ultravox,
the Fania All-Stars,
Make Up,
Half Japanese,
James White and The Blacks,
Electric Prunes,
Ronan,
Clear Light,
Audionom,
Deadbeat,
Archie Shepp,
Girls At Our Best!,
These Immortal Souls,
Symarip,
Robert Hood,
Rhythm & Sound,
David McCallum,
Funky Four + One,
Isaac Hayes,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
Funkadelic,
Anakelly,
Lou Christie,
Tropical Tobacco,
Newcleus,
The Blackbyrds,
Matthew Halsall,
Slave,
JFA,
Moebius,
Bang On A Can,
The Dirtbombs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.