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 Afghanistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin 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 Lebanon Hanover to the grime 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mark Hollis,
The Raincoats,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Black Dice,
The Knickerbockers,
Henry Cow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
MDC,
KRS-One,
Malaria!,
Ornette Coleman,
Simply Red,
James White and The Blacks,
Whodini,
ABBA,
Yellowson,
Soul II Soul,
Swell Maps,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sixth Finger,
Rakim,
The Red Krayola,
Vladislav Delay,
Magazine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lindisfarne,
Deadbeat,
Man Parrish,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Techniques,
Severed Heads,
Donald Byrd,
Sound Behaviour,
Delon & Dalcan,
X-102,
The Electric Prunes,
Gong,
The Neon Judgement,
Hardrive,
Rufus Thomas,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lungfish,
the Association,
The Gories,
The Selecter,
Popol Vuh,
The Saints,
Television Personalities,
The Motions,
Gastr Del Sol,
The New Christs,
Lyres,
Mandrill,
Barclay James Harvest,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronan,
Clear Light,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Janne Schatter,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.