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 Guyana and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Minutemen,
Audionom,
Accadde A,
Godley & Creme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Talk Talk,
Marmalade,
the Bar-Kays,
Janne Schatter,
Radiohead,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Remains,
The Cure,
Arcadia,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Prince Buster,
Eve St. Jones,
Inner City,
The Selecter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lungfish,
Whodini,
Agent Orange,
The Sonics,
Bootsy Collins,
Darondo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fad Gadget,
Cluster,
Ultravox,
The Black Dice,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ornette Coleman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Standells,
EPMD,
Funky Four + One,
K-Klass,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warren Ellis,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultra Naté,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lou Christie,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jerry's Kids,
John Holt,
A Certain Ratio,
Maurizio,
Ronnie Foster,
Carl Craig,
Althea and Donna,
Man Parrish,
Eddi Front,
Radio Birdman,
The Gap Band,
Silicon Teens,
John Coltrane,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.