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 Namibia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Tokyo.
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 rhodes 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 Sixth Finger to the punk 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every EPMD record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
Terry Callier,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tears for Fears,
Black Bananas,
Frankie Knuckles,
The American Breed,
Barry Ungar,
Scion,
Nils Olav,
Morten Harket,
Masters at Work,
Roger Hodgson,
Crooked Eye,
Thompson Twins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mr. Review,
The Trojans,
Flipper,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Grass Roots,
Clear Light,
Shoche,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arthur Verocai,
The Mummies,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Max Romeo,
Tomorrow,
Spoonie Gee,
Tom Boy,
The Moody Blues,
Kenny Larkin,
Minny Pops,
Ossler,
Howard Jones,
Metal Thangz,
Little Man,
Crime,
Franke,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lucky Dragons,
The Doors,
June of 44,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fatback Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jacob Miller,
Altered Images,
Gang Green,
the Germs,
Quantec,
Swans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cheater Slicks,
The Residents,
The Skatalites,
The Remains,
Marvin Gaye,
Mark Hollis,
Susan Cadogan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.