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 Benin and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the crunk 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Marcia Griffiths,
Leonard Cohen,
Banda Bassotti,
The Golliwogs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lakeside,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Junior Murvin,
Whodini,
The Cramps,
Kerri Chandler,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blake Baxter,
Zero Boys,
Cameo,
The Cowsills,
Jacques Brel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Siglo XX,
Grauzone,
In Retrospect,
Ultra Naté,
Brand Nubian,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Desert Stars,
Delta 5,
Black Sheep,
Essential Logic,
The Mummies,
The Sonics,
Q and Not U,
Erasure,
the Sonics,
Radiohead,
Yaz,
Funkadelic,
Little Man,
Marine Girls,
The Wake,
Barry Ungar,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Freddie Wadling,
Tubeway Army,
Kayak,
Flipper,
Johnny Clarke,
Derrick May,
Joe Finger,
Fear,
This Heat,
Danielle Patucci,
Warren Ellis,
Pagans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Coltrane,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.