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 Fiji and from Salvador.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 DNA to the electroclash 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Goldenarms,
H. Thieme,
Royal Trux,
Quando Quango,
Bauhaus,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Mummies,
Newcleus,
Pantaleimon,
The Cowsills,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Derrick May,
Anakelly,
Deakin,
Wasted Youth,
Zapp,
Stereo Dub,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eric Copeland,
Robert Hood,
Whodini,
Harmonia,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amon Düül II,
Josef K,
The Last Poets,
The Fugs,
Gabor Szabo,
Flipper,
Saccharine Trust,
Patti Smith,
The Human League,
Dawn Penn,
Sam Rivers,
Nick Fraelich,
Gang Starr,
Carl Craig,
Unrelated Segments,
Wings,
Severed Heads,
Basic Channel,
June Days,
Parry Music,
Nils Olav,
Cecil Taylor,
Roger Hodgson,
Sight & Sound,
New Age Steppers,
Arthur Verocai,
Oneida,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The American Breed,
Lou Christie,
The Barracudas,
Erasure,
Albert Ayler,
The Walker Brothers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Throbbing Gristle,
Metal Thangz,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.