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 Monaco and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lille.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Audionom record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Sugar Minott,
Amazonics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bush Tetras,
Young Marble Giants,
Absolute Body Control,
Whodini,
Wally Richardson,
Thee Headcoats,
Parry Music,
Minnie Riperton,
New York Dolls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roxette,
The Cowsills,
Donny Hathaway,
Franke,
Symarip,
Funkadelic,
Crime,
Vladislav Delay,
Donald Byrd,
Mandrill,
Rites of Spring,
Harmonia,
Lee Hazlewood,
Shoche,
The Gories,
The Misunderstood,
Supertramp,
Thompson Twins,
Pantaleimon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Saints,
Vainqueur,
Circle Jerks,
Joe Finger,
Michelle Simonal,
DNA,
Depeche Mode,
LL Cool J,
Pharoah Sanders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Make Up,
Bill Near,
John Holt,
Radiopuhelimet,
H. Thieme,
The J.B.'s,
The Vogues,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Rekid,
The Martian,
Byron Stingily,
The Gladiators,
Marcia Griffiths,
ABBA,
Pylon,
Bad Manners,
Stetsasonic,
B.T. Express,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.