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 Czech Republic and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 B.T. Express to the crunk 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Todd Terry,
The Happenings,
Khruangbin,
UT,
The Toasters,
The Five Americans,
Saccharine Trust,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Stetsasonic,
Thompson Twins,
The Residents,
The Move,
Kevin Saunderson,
Inner City,
Soft Machine,
Marmalade,
Can,
Suicide,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pussy Galore,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Motorama,
The Standells,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-102,
Porter Ricks,
Duran Duran,
The Sonics,
Cheater Slicks,
Archie Shepp,
Banda Bassotti,
Average White Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Moss Icon,
Faust,
Severed Heads,
Roger Hodgson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Talk Talk,
The Fire Engines,
Derrick Morgan,
Bob Dylan,
Q and Not U,
Warsaw,
The Fuzztones,
New York Dolls,
The Mummies,
Gang Green,
The Blackbyrds,
Anthony Braxton,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Visage,
Blancmange,
Chris Corsano,
Amon Düül II,
The Moody Blues,
Connie Case,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.