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 Qatar and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Jesper Dahlbäck 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Popol Vuh,
The Associates,
Wire,
Boz Scaggs,
Prince Buster,
The Searchers,
F. McDonald,
Amazonics,
Joey Negro,
Young Marble Giants,
Pantytec,
Groovy Waters,
Ponytail,
Inner City,
Swell Maps,
Eric B and Rakim,
Laurel Aitken,
The Sound,
Warsaw,
Nico,
Joe Finger,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
kango's stein massive,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cluster,
Sällskapet,
Hardrive,
the Slits,
Dual Sessions,
Harry Pussy,
Dave Gahan,
Nirvana,
Crispy Ambulance,
Absolute Body Control,
The Count Five,
Television Personalities,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Remains,
Bobby Byrd,
Flipper,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Slave,
Gang Green,
Bad Manners,
Pole,
Babytalk,
Jerry's Kids,
Robert Hood,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Porter Ricks,
Cybotron,
Ronan,
Mo-Dettes,
Skriet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Shoche,
T. Rex,
The Standells,
E-Dancer,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.