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 Mongolia and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Mantronix to the grime 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Groovy Waters,
KRS-One,
Rapeman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Make Up,
Derrick May,
Don Cherry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pantytec,
Pierre Henry,
Piero Umiliani,
Alton Ellis,
Hashim,
Alison Limerick,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang of Four,
Robert Wyatt,
Roger Hodgson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Camberwell Now,
One Last Wish,
Andrew Hill,
The Cramps,
Minnie Riperton,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
David Bowie,
DNA,
Qualms,
David McCallum,
Panda Bear,
Crime,
Pantaleimon,
Siglo XX,
Flash Fearless,
The Smoke,
Skarface,
John Coltrane,
a-ha,
The Dead C,
Clear Light,
Symarip,
Lalo Schifrin,
Newcleus,
Parry Music,
Eddi Front,
the Slits,
Outsiders,
Pole,
Thompson Twins,
Technova,
The Angels of Light,
Grey Daturas,
Zero Boys,
Bill Wells,
Spandau Ballet,
Pulsallama,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dirtbombs,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.