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 Guinea-Bissau 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Golliwogs to the dance 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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Siglo XX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Audionom,
Anthony Braxton,
Pierre Henry,
Mr. Review,
Television,
Scientists,
Marmalade,
the Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
KRS-One,
Parry Music,
Barbara Tucker,
Loose Ends,
Archie Shepp,
Joe Finger,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalann,
Pagans,
Danielle Patucci,
Mission of Burma,
John Foxx,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eurythmics,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Junior Murvin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cal Tjader,
Crash Course in Science,
Aaron Thompson,
Scan 7,
Second Layer,
Spoonie Gee,
E-Dancer,
Ronnie Foster,
Gastr Del Sol,
Make Up,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fat Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Minutemen,
The United States of America,
Chris Corsano,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ken Boothe,
Hardrive,
China Crisis,
Jeff Lynne,
Warsaw,
48th St. Collective,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bob Dylan,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Clarke,
The Doobie Brothers,
Magazine,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.