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 Egypt and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Winnipeg.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Glambeats Corp. to the grime 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon 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 a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rahsaan Roland Kirk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Michelle Simonal,
Y Pants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Reagan Youth,
The Electric Prunes,
Soul II Soul,
Anakelly,
Oneida,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scion,
Derrick May,
The Knickerbockers,
Can,
Leonard Cohen,
Groovy Waters,
Pylon,
The Divine Comedy,
Cluster,
Ken Boothe,
cv313,
Robert Görl,
Mr. Review,
Ohio Players,
Sister Nancy,
Wally Richardson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Young Rascals,
Bobby Womack,
Aloha Tigers,
Laurel Aitken,
Desert Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Magazine,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pere Ubu,
The Gap Band,
Althea and Donna,
The J.B.'s,
Crash Course in Science,
Simply Red,
Dawn Penn,
Don Cherry,
Sun Ra,
The Fall,
China Crisis,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Seeds,
Jeff Lynne,
June of 44,
Heaven 17,
Graham Central Station,
Glenn Branca,
EPMD,
Kayak,
the Normal,
Bootsy Collins,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gerry Rafferty,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.