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 Malaysia and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 T. Rex to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Tubeway Army,
Arthur Verocai,
Shoche,
The Electric Prunes,
KRS-One,
Cal Tjader,
Los Fastidios,
Malaria!,
T.S.O.L.,
The Moody Blues,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Isaac Hayes,
Spoonie Gee,
Faust,
Youth Brigade,
DJ Sneak,
X-102,
The Remains,
Lou Reed,
Moby Grape,
Theoretical Girls,
Delta 5,
T. Rex,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tears for Fears,
Pagans,
the Normal,
Electric Light Orchestra,
JFA,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soft Cell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Almond,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pussy Galore,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
John Coltrane,
Adolescents,
Japan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobby Womack,
Goldenarms,
Wally Richardson,
The Fall,
Cybotron,
The Birthday Party,
Au Pairs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Eden Ahbez,
Stiv Bators,
Metal Thangz,
Skarface,
Magma,
The Offenders,
Intrusion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brass Construction,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.