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 Somalia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 KRS-One to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dennis Brown,
The Slackers,
Al Stewart,
Scott Walker,
The Walker Brothers,
Mad Mike,
Bill Near,
Rites of Spring,
Anakelly,
The Searchers,
Kerri Chandler,
Neil Young,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flipper,
Nirvana,
Black Pus,
The Toasters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Main Source,
The Detroit Cobras,
Skriet,
10cc,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Morten Harket,
The Red Krayola,
Suburban Knight,
B.T. Express,
The Stooges,
Tres Demented,
Sparks,
The Fire Engines,
The Music Machine,
The Doors,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amon Düül,
Spoonie Gee,
Lungfish,
Au Pairs,
The Skatalites,
Roy Ayers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
JFA,
The Count Five,
Man Parrish,
Essential Logic,
Amazonics,
Blake Baxter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dead Boys,
Brand Nubian,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Last Poets,
Curtis Mayfield,
Saccharine Trust,
The Pretty Things,
ABBA,
Urselle,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Laurel Aitken,
Livin' Joy,
Patti Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.