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 Lebanon and from Beijing.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum 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 Kerrie Biddell to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
The Beau Brummels,
Nico,
Yellowson,
Faraquet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Kinks,
Bob Dylan,
Niagra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Slackers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scrapy,
Arcadia,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ossler,
Joey Negro,
KRS-One,
the Soft Cell,
Danielle Patucci,
Crime,
Hashim,
Gichy Dan,
Ohio Players,
Absolute Body Control,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soft Machine,
Barry Ungar,
Derrick Morgan,
Kayak,
Alphaville,
The Trojans,
the Human League,
Jerry's Kids,
Toni Rubio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Janne Schatter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Duran Duran,
New Order,
The Slits,
Dennis Brown,
Godley & Creme,
Minor Threat,
Graham Central Station,
Funkadelic,
Arab on Radar,
Stetsasonic,
Derrick May,
F. McDonald,
Mantronix,
The Moody Blues,
Oblivians,
Blossom Toes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.