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 Montenegro and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Visage to the punk 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Gang Starr,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Last Poets,
Toni Rubio,
Brass Construction,
Albert Ayler,
Cal Tjader,
The Buckinghams,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Warren Ellis,
Stockholm Monsters,
June Days,
The Moleskins,
Eric B and Rakim,
Technova,
Young Marble Giants,
Colin Newman,
Archie Shepp,
Malaria!,
The Velvet Underground,
Lower 48,
Yusef Lateef,
Wolf Eyes,
Interpol,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fela Kuti,
The Real Kids,
Fugazi,
Andrew Hill,
The Gories,
Roy Ayers,
Gang Green,
Dennis Brown,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Divine Comedy,
Donny Hathaway,
Au Pairs,
The Smoke,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bauhaus,
Ponytail,
Judy Mowatt,
The Black Dice,
Wasted Youth,
Roxy Music,
Basic Channel,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mr. Review,
Terry Callier,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scott Walker,
Quadrant,
The Mummies,
The Gladiators,
Talk Talk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rekid,
Liliput,
Bob Dylan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.