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 Equatorial Guinea and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
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 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 Terry Callier to the crunk 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grandmaster Flash,
Livin' Joy,
ABBA,
Pere Ubu,
World's Most,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dennis Brown,
The Saints,
T. Rex,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lalann,
Don Cherry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Absolute Body Control,
Charles Mingus,
The Sound,
Nas,
Accadde A,
Warren Ellis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeff Mills,
Lee Hazlewood,
a-ha,
John Lydon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skarface,
Aaron Thompson,
Parry Music,
Pylon,
Hot Snakes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eddi Front,
Jacob Miller,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeff Lynne,
Judy Mowatt,
The Beau Brummels,
Quando Quango,
Shuggie Otis,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Moody Blues,
Maurizio,
Ultravox,
Scratch Acid,
Rites of Spring,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gang of Four,
DNA,
Schoolly D,
The Litter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mad Mike,
Black Bananas,
Bluetip,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sonny Sharrock,
Masters at Work,
The Fire Engines,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.