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 the UAE and from Shanghai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Lee Hazlewood to the rap 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Don Cherry,
Byron Stingily,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ken Boothe,
Al Stewart,
Hashim,
Hasil Adkins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Symarip,
Soft Cell,
Lalann,
Radiopuhelimet,
New Age Steppers,
The Blackbyrds,
Neu!,
Young Marble Giants,
Jimmy McGriff,
These Immortal Souls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Harry Pussy,
JFA,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Aaron Thompson,
X-Ray Spex,
Isaac Hayes,
Country Teasers,
Brothers Johnson,
Clear Light,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sister Nancy,
Bad Manners,
Newcleus,
Quadrant,
Thee Headcoats,
Dennis Brown,
Ten City,
Visage,
Johnny Clarke,
Alton Ellis,
Sun Ra,
Judy Mowatt,
Matthew Bourne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Blossom Toes,
ABC,
Y Pants,
Shuggie Otis,
Lightning Bolt,
Harmonia,
The Dead C,
Slick Rick,
The Blues Magoos,
Todd Terry,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Normal,
Bronski Beat,
Monks,
Pagans,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.