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 Barbados and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Thee Headcoats,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
DJ Style,
Scion,
Little Man,
The Sonics,
Howard Jones,
Intrusion,
Black Sheep,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Fraelich,
Skaos,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Chrome,
The Evens,
the Association,
The Fuzztones,
Slick Rick,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
This Heat,
Boz Scaggs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tres Demented,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marine Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun Ra,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Green,
Gang of Four,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
KRS-One,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fall,
Gastr Del Sol,
Symarip,
Rosa Yemen,
Patti Smith,
Altered Images,
Kas Product,
Bill Wells,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sandy B,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Music Machine,
The Zeros,
The Dirtbombs,
Lungfish,
The Last Poets,
Babytalk,
Jerry Gold Smith,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Brand Nubian,
Marshall Jefferson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Blossom Toes,
H. Thieme,
Bush Tetras,
John Foxx,
Swell Maps,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.