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 Guatemala and from Manila.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 Hashim to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Man Parrish,
Ohio Players,
The Five Americans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
David Axelrod,
Funkadelic,
Royal Trux,
China Crisis,
Marmalade,
Section 25,
Sex Pistols,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Camberwell Now,
New Age Steppers,
Marine Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Count Five,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kenny Larkin,
Altered Images,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The United States of America,
Peter & Gordon,
Aswad,
Black Sheep,
The Real Kids,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cecil Taylor,
Curtis Mayfield,
Subhumans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Infiniti,
Funky Four + One,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fluxion,
Slick Rick,
Peter and Kerry,
The Neon Judgement,
Eric Copeland,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Don Cherry,
Althea and Donna,
The Wake,
Bill Wells,
Sällskapet,
Siglo XX,
Tropical Tobacco,
Excepter,
June of 44,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crash Course in Science,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
KRS-One,
The Gories,
Barry Ungar,
Jacques Brel,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.