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 Marshall Islands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Livin' Joy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Sheep,
Ludus,
D'Angelo,
Davy DMX,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stereo Dub,
Cecil Taylor,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dawn Penn,
Agitation Free,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Little Man,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barclay James Harvest,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marc Almond,
The Fuzztones,
Shoche,
Section 25,
Peter and Kerry,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Crime,
The Skatalites,
Eric Copeland,
Hot Snakes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Holt,
Marmalade,
Pere Ubu,
Archie Shepp,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Masters at Work,
Don Cherry,
The Mojo Men,
Suburban Knight,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Unwound,
Chris & Cosey,
The Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Drexciya,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Seeds,
Jimmy McGriff,
Groovy Waters,
FM Einheit,
Mandrill,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Buzzcocks,
Parry Music,
Henry Cow,
Vainqueur,
The Move,
Slick Rick,
Robert Wyatt,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.