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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Terrestrial Tones to the rap 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Hashim,
Arab on Radar,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Blake Baxter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gichy Dan,
The Birthday Party,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
X-101,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
This Heat,
Arcadia,
Motorama,
Robert Wyatt,
Kerri Chandler,
Fugazi,
Goldenarms,
Janne Schatter,
Eve St. Jones,
David Axelrod,
Kayak,
The Skatalites,
The Gladiators,
The Moody Blues,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronan,
Darondo,
Shoche,
UT,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Velvet Underground,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scientists,
Lindisfarne,
Black Pus,
Mr. Review,
Piero Umiliani,
LL Cool J,
Bronski Beat,
Morten Harket,
The Black Dice,
The Walker Brothers,
Nirvana,
Suburban Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Procol Harum,
Ultravox,
Hoover,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The United States of America,
Animal Collective,
Lungfish,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Supertramp,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.