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 Nigeria and from London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Groovy Waters to the electroclash 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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Accadde A,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Radiohead,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Residents,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
Adolescents,
Throbbing Gristle,
Negative Approach,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-101,
The American Breed,
Bush Tetras,
Organ,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Coltrane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bang On A Can,
Brothers Johnson,
48th St. Collective,
Fatback Band,
Symarip,
The United States of America,
Maleditus Sound,
Lindisfarne,
Anthony Braxton,
L. Decosne,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Red Krayola,
Moss Icon,
The Motions,
DNA,
Marshall Jefferson,
Magma,
Royal Trux,
Silicon Teens,
Subhumans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wally Richardson,
Dennis Brown,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jeru the Damaja,
Donny Hathaway,
The Standells,
The Divine Comedy,
Deepchord,
Funkadelic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sight & Sound,
Shoche,
Grauzone,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pantaleimon,
CMW,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.