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 Angola and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 guitar 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 Howard Jones to the disco 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Toni Rubio,
Scan 7,
Rekid,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Gladiators,
Skarface,
Donny Hathaway,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Make Up,
Gang Green,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bush Tetras,
Eric Copeland,
Livin' Joy,
Black Pus,
Pere Ubu,
Drexciya,
Kayak,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Steve Hackett,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tomorrow,
Audionom,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Juan Atkins,
Parry Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Technova,
Godley & Creme,
Althea and Donna,
Television,
World's Most,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sexual Harrassment,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ponytail,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sparks,
Warren Ellis,
Spoonie Gee,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Scratch Acid,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cecil Taylor,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Monks,
Trumans Water,
Tears for Fears,
DJ Style,
a-ha,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Names,
Ronan,
This Heat,
Motorama,
Vladislav Delay,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.