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 Norway and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Dark Day to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Jerry Gold Smith,
June of 44,
Joy Division,
Freddie Wadling,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Television,
Terrestrial Tones,
Morten Harket,
Funky Four + One,
Pole,
Can,
The Mummies,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Erykah Badu,
Slick Rick,
Minnie Riperton,
Barbara Tucker,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Little Man,
Lalann,
Severed Heads,
Motorama,
The Move,
Grauzone,
The Smoke,
Warren Ellis,
Gong,
The Busters,
Hasil Adkins,
New Age Steppers,
Delta 5,
The Victims,
Sixth Finger,
Ultimate Spinach,
Al Stewart,
Adolescents,
Eddi Front,
Soul II Soul,
Blake Baxter,
Heaven 17,
Saccharine Trust,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
This Heat,
Essential Logic,
Gang of Four,
Metal Thangz,
Fat Boys,
Neu!,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Womack,
Babytalk,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Warsaw,
T. Rex,
Maleditus Sound,
The Techniques,
Fear,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wasted Youth,
Ludus,
Mantronix,
Bootsy Collins,
the Normal,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.