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 Vietnam and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 oboe 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 Jimmy McGriff to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Maurizio,
Black Bananas,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marshall Jefferson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ice-T,
Marvin Gaye,
Unwound,
Barry Ungar,
Jacob Miller,
Matthew Halsall,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Music Machine,
The Saints,
June of 44,
Pylon,
Kerrie Biddell,
A Certain Ratio,
Glenn Branca,
DJ Style,
The Offenders,
Derrick May,
ABC,
Monks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Easy Going,
The Kinks,
Make Up,
Soulsonic Force,
Kaleidoscope,
One Last Wish,
James White and The Blacks,
Zapp,
Visage,
Henry Cow,
The Five Americans,
Magazine,
Hardrive,
Bauhaus,
F. McDonald,
Malaria!,
Chrome,
Yellowson,
Bobby Womack,
L. Decosne,
The Invisible,
Bad Manners,
the Sonics,
UT,
Scott Walker,
Hasil Adkins,
Suburban Knight,
New Age Steppers,
New York Dolls,
Loose Ends,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Los Fastidios,
Radiopuhelimet,
Shoche,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.