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 Oman and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Youth Brigade to the jazz 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Ohio Players,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Happenings,
Swans,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ornette Coleman,
Blake Baxter,
Altered Images,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Half Japanese,
Sun Ra,
New York Dolls,
Funky Four + One,
Faust,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alton Ellis,
Motorama,
Electric Prunes,
ABC,
Pere Ubu,
Schoolly D,
Talk Talk,
Agent Orange,
The Motions,
A Certain Ratio,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Spandau Ballet,
Fluxion,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Seeds,
The Human League,
Matthew Bourne,
Liliput,
Symarip,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Womack,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Delon & Dalcan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultra Naté,
Bang On A Can,
Con Funk Shun,
Ronnie Foster,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lucky Dragons,
Scientists,
Hoover,
PIL,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dead Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
AZ,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sexual Harrassment,
This Heat,
Roxette,
Y Pants,
Circle Jerks,
Al Stewart,
Kayak,
The Modern Lovers,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.