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 Rwanda and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reagan Youth,
The Tremeloes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Terry Callier,
The Last Poets,
Sex Pistols,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Barracudas,
Tom Boy,
The Standells,
Faraquet,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cybotron,
the Normal,
the Swans,
New Age Steppers,
Sixth Finger,
June of 44,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Intrusion,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ossler,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sound Behaviour,
A Certain Ratio,
Lyres,
Scrapy,
Max Romeo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Anakelly,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ronan,
Dark Day,
Essential Logic,
D'Angelo,
The Evens,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sarah Menescal,
Skriet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lebanon Hanover,
The J.B.'s,
Jeff Lynne,
Sonic Youth,
Andrew Hill,
Dave Gahan,
Magma,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sandy B,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
AZ,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.