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 Bolivia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro 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 Connie Case to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Outsiders,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ohio Players,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Holt,
Rapeman,
Matthew Bourne,
Public Enemy,
Spandau Ballet,
Tubeway Army,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Masters at Work,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Slits,
The Sonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Royal Trux,
Adolescents,
Black Moon,
Fat Boys,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Pus,
Donald Byrd,
Cybotron,
Banda Bassotti,
Mad Mike,
Cheater Slicks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Henry Cow,
Pole,
Gerry Rafferty,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Groovy Waters,
Marmalade,
Roy Ayers,
Reagan Youth,
Joensuu 1685,
Lower 48,
Joyce Sims,
Nils Olav,
In Retrospect,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stetsasonic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Theoretical Girls,
Marvin Gaye,
Juan Atkins,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Seeds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donny Hathaway,
Panda Bear,
This Heat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Gories,
John Coltrane,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.