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 Estonia and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Doobie Brothers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Sound Behaviour,
The Wake,
Piero Umiliani,
Crash Course in Science,
Andrew Hill,
Rotary Connection,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bauhaus,
Joyce Sims,
Essential Logic,
The Golliwogs,
Monolake,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roy Ayers,
Scrapy,
Althea and Donna,
Malaria!,
Deakin,
Quando Quango,
Fifty Foot Hose,
F. McDonald,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABBA,
MDC,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Basic Channel,
Delta 5,
Cheater Slicks,
John Foxx,
Lou Reed,
Sonny Sharrock,
Harpers Bizarre,
Youth Brigade,
Crime,
Section 25,
8 Eyed Spy,
Can,
Zapp,
The Gun Club,
The Moleskins,
Thompson Twins,
Fat Boys,
KRS-One,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hasil Adkins,
Ronnie Foster,
The Toasters,
The Slits,
Don Cherry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Chris Corsano,
The Mojo Men,
The Fire Engines,
John Lydon,
Organ,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Albert Ayler,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.