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 Dominica and from London.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crispy Ambulance to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sarah Menescal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
Crispy Ambulance,
Maurizio,
Livin' Joy,
Procol Harum,
Ten City,
Susan Cadogan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Amon Düül II,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Avey Tare,
Popol Vuh,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harmonia,
Fluxion,
Whodini,
Nation of Ulysses,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Wake,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hasil Adkins,
Barry Ungar,
Bluetip,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
The American Breed,
Porter Ricks,
ABBA,
T. Rex,
China Crisis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pussy Galore,
8 Eyed Spy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
kango's stein massive,
Tubeway Army,
Piero Umiliani,
EPMD,
Essential Logic,
Cal Tjader,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Moody Blues,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jacques Brel,
Stiv Bators,
Heaven 17,
Lindisfarne,
B.T. Express,
Shuggie Otis,
Charles Mingus,
Amon Düül,
Robert Görl,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.