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 Iraq and from Milan.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Whodini,
Don Cherry,
Ronnie Foster,
Quando Quango,
Minor Threat,
Bizarre Inc.,
Half Japanese,
Kas Product,
Inner City,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Residents,
Pagans,
Davy DMX,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mars,
The Litter,
The Music Machine,
The Smoke,
Anakelly,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Slits,
Jesper Dahlback,
Soft Machine,
UT,
Blancmange,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Soft Cell,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Robert Wyatt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ponytail,
The Wake,
Grandmaster Flash,
Alice Coltrane,
The Mojo Men,
Interpol,
These Immortal Souls,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Shoche,
Ralphi Rosario,
CMW,
Boredoms,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boz Scaggs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bush Tetras,
Reagan Youth,
Eric Copeland,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Pretty Things,
Brick,
Chris & Cosey,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Newcleus,
Sun Ra,
Bootsy Collins,
The New Christs,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.