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 Angola and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Moon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff 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 Radio Birdman 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?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stereo Dub,
Aaron Thompson,
Slave,
Sister Nancy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ludus,
David Bowie,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Görl,
Malaria!,
Au Pairs,
Yusef Lateef,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Inner City,
Camouflage,
Minor Threat,
Rufus Thomas,
the Association,
Von Mondo,
Con Funk Shun,
Al Stewart,
The Birthday Party,
The Music Machine,
Underground Resistance,
Ronnie Foster,
The Wake,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glambeats Corp.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Remains,
The Angels of Light,
Drexciya,
Lindisfarne,
Talk Talk,
Quadrant,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Electric Prunes,
Bang On A Can,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Brass Construction,
Gil Scott Heron,
Howard Jones,
Adolescents,
A Certain Ratio,
The Real Kids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Amazonics,
Cecil Taylor,
The Buckinghams,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marvin Gaye,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Matthew Bourne,
Youth Brigade,
Unrelated Segments,
Minutemen,
Quando Quango,
Jeff Mills,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
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.