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 Slovakia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin 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 Heaven 17 to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Soft Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
DNA,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Kinks,
Jawbox,
Harry Pussy,
Sparks,
Porter Ricks,
Judy Mowatt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brick,
Saccharine Trust,
Half Japanese,
Thompson Twins,
Boogie Down Productions,
Minor Threat,
Amon Düül II,
Sonic Youth,
Archie Shepp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spandau Ballet,
Y Pants,
Simply Red,
The Trojans,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Al Stewart,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rufus Thomas,
B.T. Express,
Sound Behaviour,
The Litter,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Martian,
The Sonics,
Kenny Larkin,
The Searchers,
John Coltrane,
Radiohead,
Nirvana,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sister Nancy,
Roxette,
Deepchord,
UT,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Moody Blues,
The Fugs,
Heaven 17,
Pere Ubu,
Black Flag,
Marine Girls,
Essential Logic,
Moss Icon,
D'Angelo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Slick Rick,
The Stooges,
The Last Poets,
Gastr Del Sol,
EPMD,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.