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 Germany and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 Crash Course in Science to the crunk 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
T.S.O.L.,
The Misunderstood,
Organ,
The J.B.'s,
Nas,
FM Einheit,
Little Man,
Pole,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Index,
The Gories,
Ultra Naté,
Rhythm & Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Walker Brothers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Toni Rubio,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Black Dice,
CMW,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
U.S. Maple,
Alphaville,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mission of Burma,
Albert Ayler,
Intrusion,
Freddie Wadling,
Symarip,
Ossler,
JFA,
The Moody Blues,
the Soft Cell,
the Slits,
Kerri Chandler,
Smog,
John Coltrane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Average White Band,
Television Personalities,
Roy Ayers,
Harmonia,
Fad Gadget,
Wings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
X-102,
Pere Ubu,
K-Klass,
Todd Rundgren,
Eden Ahbez,
Sister Nancy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Martian,
Loose Ends,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mary Jane Girls,
Oblivians,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rapeman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.