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 Slovenia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Lou Reed 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 Traffic Nightmare to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Sex Pistols,
John Holt,
The J.B.'s,
Outsiders,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echospace,
Lucky Dragons,
Pussy Galore,
The Mojo Men,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marcia Griffiths,
Saccharine Trust,
Flash Fearless,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ossler,
Aloha Tigers,
Mr. Review,
Rosa Yemen,
Cecil Taylor,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Oneida,
The Blues Magoos,
Grauzone,
Camouflage,
Unwound,
H. Thieme,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crash Course in Science,
Mandrill,
The Red Krayola,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Easy Going,
Loose Ends,
Joyce Sims,
The Evens,
Bill Near,
New York Dolls,
Warren Ellis,
Surgeon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Anthony Braxton,
Ituana,
Darondo,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Foxx,
The Happenings,
Accadde A,
Sound Behaviour,
Nirvana,
Faust,
Absolute Body Control,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.