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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Donald Fagen 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 Suburban Knight to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Neon Judgement,
Bad Manners,
Soul II Soul,
Black Bananas,
Liliput,
H. Thieme,
Von Mondo,
The Raincoats,
Kas Product,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Soulsonic Force,
Porter Ricks,
Yaz,
Gang Starr,
Ohio Players,
The Names,
David Axelrod,
Cameo,
ABBA,
June of 44,
Absolute Body Control,
Bush Tetras,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Barracudas,
The Cramps,
Marmalade,
Minnie Riperton,
Isaac Hayes,
Monks,
The Leaves,
Mark Hollis,
John Foxx,
Monolake,
Jerry's Kids,
Clear Light,
UT,
Ten City,
Soft Machine,
Underground Resistance,
James White and The Blacks,
Derrick Morgan,
New Order,
Massinfluence,
AZ,
Sun Ra,
Lou Reed,
cv313,
Henry Cow,
The Real Kids,
Desert Stars,
Brick,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Vladislav Delay,
Roger Hodgson,
Sparks,
Roxette,
Sam Rivers,
Connie Case,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.