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 Israel and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Big Daddy Kane to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Pole,
Marcia Griffiths,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
Rakim,
June of 44,
Urselle,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Scientists,
Erasure,
Andrew Hill,
Swell Maps,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nirvana,
The Dave Clark Five,
Accadde A,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lower 48,
The Trojans,
Sun Ra,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nils Olav,
Hardrive,
The Invisible,
Depeche Mode,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lou Reed,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kurtis Blow,
EPMD,
The Star Department,
Scott Walker,
Michelle Simonal,
John Lydon,
The Busters,
Roger Hodgson,
Au Pairs,
The Litter,
The Raincoats,
Marc Almond,
Altered Images,
The Black Dice,
Rod Modell,
Reagan Youth,
Silicon Teens,
8 Eyed Spy,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
Unwound,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gories,
Black Pus,
Byron Stingily,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fall,
Q and Not U,
JFA,
Cluster,
Agitation Free,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.