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 Solomon Islands and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 Milan and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Howard Jones to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Cymande,
The Evens,
Junior Murvin,
Black Pus,
Dave Gahan,
Alphaville,
Black Bananas,
Black Moon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jacques Brel,
Fatback Band,
H. Thieme,
Rosa Yemen,
Mantronix,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Fela Kuti,
48th St. Collective,
Robert Görl,
The Velvet Underground,
Minor Threat,
Toni Rubio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Trojans,
Yusef Lateef,
Country Teasers,
The Smoke,
Black Sheep,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Soft Cell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Litter,
Y Pants,
Soft Cell,
The Gap Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gabor Szabo,
Skaos,
Hashim,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joe Finger,
Heaven 17,
Eurythmics,
Amon Düül,
Angry Samoans,
D'Angelo,
Rod Modell,
Tears for Fears,
Panda Bear,
The Flesh Eaters,
Leonard Cohen,
Aloha Tigers,
Talk Talk,
John Foxx,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Essential Logic,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.