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 Haiti and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Boz Scaggs to the techno 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Cal Tjader,
Dawn Penn,
Lou Christie,
Soft Cell,
Crime,
Con Funk Shun,
The Flesh Eaters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sandy B,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fugazi,
Khruangbin,
Wings,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Parrish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tears for Fears,
Malaria!,
Tommy Roe,
Avey Tare,
Pantytec,
Joe Finger,
Suicide,
Black Pus,
Maurizio,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Blackbyrds,
The United States of America,
Fela Kuti,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Royal Trux,
Minutemen,
Matthew Bourne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Anakelly,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Warren Ellis,
Quantec,
Mantronix,
Flash Fearless,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Fraelich,
Scan 7,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Drexciya,
Ludus,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Kinks,
Pole,
Rapeman,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Music Machine,
Negative Approach,
Can,
Robert Wyatt,
48th St. Collective,
Dark Day,
Henry Cow,
The Fall,
Ultimate Spinach,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.