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 Uzbekistan and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer 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 The Dead C to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
The Dave Clark Five,
Niagra,
Bauhaus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Drive Like Jehu,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Associates,
Suburban Knight,
Iggy Pop,
Das Ding,
Cecil Taylor,
Animal Collective,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fela Kuti,
Alphaville,
The Buckinghams,
Radio Birdman,
John Foxx,
the Slits,
U.S. Maple,
Sun Ra,
48th St. Collective,
Mr. Review,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
Monolake,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Skaos,
Mad Mike,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Normal,
Bad Manners,
Max Romeo,
Japan,
K-Klass,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Procol Harum,
Robert Görl,
Angry Samoans,
Isaac Hayes,
Dennis Brown,
the Association,
Aswad,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warsaw,
Amazonics,
Whodini,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pantaleimon,
The Stooges,
Man Parrish,
Blossom Toes,
Sex Pistols,
Drexciya,
Joe Smooth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rites of Spring,
Todd Terry,
Deadbeat,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.