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 Botswana and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Wolf Eyes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt 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?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Alice Coltrane,
Radiohead,
Blake Baxter,
The Slits,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gun Club,
K-Klass,
Trumans Water,
Basic Channel,
DJ Sneak,
The Gladiators,
Sound Behaviour,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Severed Heads,
The Cramps,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Toasters,
Eric Copeland,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scan 7,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Fall,
Oneida,
Cameo,
Brand Nubian,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Zero Boys,
Al Stewart,
Theoretical Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Görl,
Freddie Wadling,
The Stooges,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pantytec,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lebanon Hanover,
Radio Birdman,
The Blackbyrds,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The American Breed,
Albert Ayler,
Steve Hackett,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Boz Scaggs,
Roxette,
David Bowie,
The Young Rascals,
The Electric Prunes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Easy Going,
Quando Quango,
AZ,
Banda Bassotti,
The Victims,
Procol Harum,
Graham Central Station,
MC5,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.