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 Paraguay and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
E-Dancer,
Delta 5,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nils Olav,
The Evens,
Ten City,
Little Man,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick Morgan,
Bang On A Can,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mad Mike,
Amazonics,
The Trojans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stereo Dub,
Loose Ends,
The Move,
James White and The Blacks,
Clear Light,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ronan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joe Finger,
Dennis Brown,
Bronski Beat,
Johnny Clarke,
Tears for Fears,
Essential Logic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Michelle Simonal,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Q and Not U,
Pulsallama,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Technova,
Scratch Acid,
the Human League,
Bush Tetras,
Jacob Miller,
Scrapy,
Rod Modell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
One Last Wish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marc Almond,
Josef K,
Bobby Womack,
The Toasters,
Terry Callier,
Black Bananas,
Gabor Szabo,
Roxette,
Bobby Sherman,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Holt,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.