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 Colombia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Intrusion to the dance 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Idris Muhammad,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Victims,
The Happenings,
X-Ray Spex,
Sandy B,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alphaville,
Minny Pops,
Jawbox,
Eric Copeland,
Massinfluence,
Audionom,
Juan Atkins,
Gang Green,
Monks,
Fatback Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nico,
UT,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tommy Roe,
Parry Music,
Yazoo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cal Tjader,
Jeff Lynne,
Malaria!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rekid,
Icehouse,
Crispy Ambulance,
Avey Tare,
The Mummies,
Television,
Sarah Menescal,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joe Smooth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Human League,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ponytail,
Glenn Branca,
James White and The Blacks,
Lindisfarne,
Eddi Front,
Crooked Eye,
Aswad,
Altered Images,
Tim Buckley,
Fugazi,
New York Dolls,
Sam Rivers,
Y Pants,
La Düsseldorf,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.