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 Lesotho and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Hasil Adkins to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roy Ayers,
Hardrive,
James Chance & The Contortions,
EPMD,
In Retrospect,
The Electric Prunes,
Bronski Beat,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Gang Dance,
Carl Craig,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fatback Band,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Byrd,
Drexciya,
Simply Red,
Outsiders,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Standells,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mad Mike,
The Young Rascals,
The Last Poets,
Man Parrish,
Yaz,
The Dirtbombs,
Erykah Badu,
Saccharine Trust,
Junior Murvin,
Deadbeat,
Inner City,
Groovy Waters,
ABBA,
Bobby Sherman,
Maleditus Sound,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Supertramp,
Nils Olav,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pere Ubu,
Harry Pussy,
The Blues Magoos,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Model 500,
the Slits,
Sam Rivers,
Lyres,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Thee Headcoats,
Godley & Creme,
Kayak,
Trumans Water,
Electric Prunes,
Don Cherry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Traffic Nightmare,
U.S. Maple,
Quando Quango,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Trojans,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.