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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 June of 44 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Gong,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Standells,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Womack,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dark Day,
Faraquet,
Newcleus,
kango's stein massive,
Buzzcocks,
The Raincoats,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dawn Penn,
Trumans Water,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Minutemen,
Ludus,
ABC,
Von Mondo,
The Pretty Things,
Sarah Menescal,
Dead Boys,
Agent Orange,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Blancmange,
Stiv Bators,
Unwound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bob Dylan,
The Human League,
Cybotron,
Stetsasonic,
48th St. Collective,
Mandrill,
Zero Boys,
Lungfish,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Brothers Johnson,
Rites of Spring,
Aaron Thompson,
Gichy Dan,
Fatback Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Derrick Morgan,
Lalann,
The Trojans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Evens,
Mad Mike,
The Busters,
Barry Ungar,
Depeche Mode,
Kool Moe Dee,
Godley & Creme,
The Names,
The Walker Brothers,
Ultravox,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.