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 Kazakhstan and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin 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 Carl Craig to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Raincoats,
Second Layer,
Ken Boothe,
Minnie Riperton,
Sex Pistols,
Brick,
UT,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scratch Acid,
The Seeds,
Neil Young,
ABBA,
The Five Americans,
Bush Tetras,
Pantytec,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Howard Jones,
Guru Guru,
The Beau Brummels,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Martian,
Camouflage,
Pere Ubu,
Lalann,
Stereo Dub,
Iggy Pop,
Fat Boys,
The Misunderstood,
Letta Mbulu,
The Smiths,
Bobby Womack,
Au Pairs,
Angry Samoans,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Gap Band,
Aural Exciters,
the Germs,
Sugar Minott,
Gerry Rafferty,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ornette Coleman,
Jerry's Kids,
Kas Product,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wire,
Kenny Larkin,
Scrapy,
Harry Pussy,
Joe Finger,
Delta 5,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Standells,
Vladislav Delay,
Funky Four + One,
The Divine Comedy,
Bluetip,
Vainqueur,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.