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 Portugal and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum 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 F. McDonald to the jazz 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Scientists,
The Mojo Men,
LL Cool J,
Colin Newman,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
FM Einheit,
Angry Samoans,
Sonic Youth,
Kerri Chandler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Patti Smith,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
8 Eyed Spy,
Arab on Radar,
The Victims,
The Birthday Party,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Roger Hodgson,
Japan,
Wire,
Todd Rundgren,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Junior Murvin,
Smog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Bananas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Glambeats Corp.,
Donny Hathaway,
Ultra Naté,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Henry Cow,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Slits,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Essential Logic,
John Holt,
Eddi Front,
Kas Product,
Tim Buckley,
Royal Trux,
The Raincoats,
Banda Bassotti,
Depeche Mode,
The Smiths,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Byrd,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tres Demented,
Sex Pistols,
KRS-One,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pagans,
Nils Olav,
Stetsasonic,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skriet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.