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 Bologna.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 guitar 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 Bobby Sherman 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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Delta 5,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Henry Cow,
Stiv Bators,
Pantytec,
The Searchers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sunsets and Hearts,
KRS-One,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Christie,
Monolake,
Minnie Riperton,
Vladislav Delay,
Connie Case,
Aloha Tigers,
Pulsallama,
U.S. Maple,
Andrew Hill,
Motorama,
New Order,
Ice-T,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kayak,
Nick Fraelich,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
The Kinks,
The Litter,
Scratch Acid,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jawbox,
World's Most,
Pagans,
the Human League,
Echospace,
ABC,
Surgeon,
Barry Ungar,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Saints,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
Hot Snakes,
The Barracudas,
Pussy Galore,
Desert Stars,
The Red Krayola,
The Walker Brothers,
The Human League,
China Crisis,
Ronan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sarah Menescal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sixth Finger,
Arab on Radar,
Fat Boys,
Infiniti,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.