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 Congo and from Copenhagen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 June of 44 to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Cymande,
Boogie Down Productions,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tim Buckley,
Erykah Badu,
B.T. Express,
Man Eating Sloth,
R.M.O.,
Toni Rubio,
Sam Rivers,
La Düsseldorf,
The American Breed,
H. Thieme,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Soft Cell,
Siglo XX,
Con Funk Shun,
Stereo Dub,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fela Kuti,
Curtis Mayfield,
Quadrant,
Henry Cow,
Soul II Soul,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Masters at Work,
Unwound,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bill Near,
Carl Craig,
Magma,
Barclay James Harvest,
Yellowson,
Fad Gadget,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Byron Stingily,
Maurizio,
Black Sheep,
Crispy Ambulance,
Juan Atkins,
Lightning Bolt,
Parry Music,
Swans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Graham Central Station,
Reagan Youth,
Althea and Donna,
Model 500,
Saccharine Trust,
Lyres,
AZ,
Max Romeo,
Ken Boothe,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
Quantec,
The Modern Lovers,
Radiohead,
Neu!,
The Detroit Cobras,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.