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 Denmark and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and London.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Golliwogs to the funk 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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
The Durutti Column,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Index,
Crash Course in Science,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Donny Hathaway,
Q and Not U,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Warsaw,
Cecil Taylor,
Monolake,
The J.B.'s,
Pagans,
The Fire Engines,
Black Flag,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Slick Rick,
Magma,
The Seeds,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quantec,
Zapp,
T.S.O.L.,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cramps,
Nico,
Roxette,
Sonic Youth,
Tomorrow,
The Divine Comedy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Colin Newman,
Clear Light,
EPMD,
Excepter,
Boz Scaggs,
Bobby Sherman,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Young Rascals,
Livin' Joy,
Marvin Gaye,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pantytec,
The Velvet Underground,
Television Personalities,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fela Kuti,
Shoche,
Donald Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
Brothers Johnson,
Harry Pussy,
Oneida,
Young Marble Giants,
Lungfish,
Robert Görl,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.