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 Seoul.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kerrie Biddell to the techno 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
Don Cherry,
The Wake,
Lalo Schifrin,
Public Enemy,
Dave Gahan,
the Swans,
The Fortunes,
Maleditus Sound,
Heaven 17,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vainqueur,
The Invisible,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mars,
EPMD,
Roy Ayers,
Rufus Thomas,
The Alarm Clocks,
Suicide,
Kurtis Blow,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brass Construction,
Tres Demented,
Roxy Music,
The Pop Group,
Joe Smooth,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gladiators,
Sarah Menescal,
David Axelrod,
Malaria!,
Godley & Creme,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Monks,
Groovy Waters,
Leonard Cohen,
Mission of Burma,
Cal Tjader,
Ultravox,
Interpol,
Swans,
Juan Atkins,
Black Sheep,
Schoolly D,
Aloha Tigers,
Theoretical Girls,
The Black Dice,
Amon Düül,
Mo-Dettes,
Marine Girls,
Tom Boy,
New Order,
The Smiths,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Iggy Pop,
The New Christs,
Nils Olav,
Sugar Minott,
Youth Brigade,
Lou Christie,
Neil Young,
Tubeway Army,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.