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 Peru and from Philadelphia.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Flag to the grime 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Brothers Johnson,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Litter,
Glenn Branca,
Cybotron,
Moby Grape,
The Raincoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Busters,
Das Ding,
The Residents,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Brand Nubian,
Soft Cell,
Intrusion,
The Slits,
Dave Gahan,
The Divine Comedy,
Lyres,
Moss Icon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Real Kids,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Organ,
Monolake,
These Immortal Souls,
Archie Shepp,
Jandek,
New Age Steppers,
Matthew Bourne,
The Buckinghams,
Ornette Coleman,
Heaven 17,
The Cure,
Accadde A,
The Associates,
The Detroit Cobras,
Throbbing Gristle,
PIL,
Stereo Dub,
Brick,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Guru Guru,
Jacob Miller,
Tim Buckley,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Count Five,
Lower 48,
Ronnie Foster,
48th St. Collective,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jacques Brel,
Erasure,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Donald Byrd,
Camberwell Now,
Basic Channel,
Arcadia,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.