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 Brunei and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and London.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Khruangbin to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Arthur Verocai,
Trumans Water,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gong,
The Doors,
Black Sheep,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Moon,
Crooked Eye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Shuggie Otis,
Glambeats Corp.,
48th St. Collective,
Piero Umiliani,
8 Eyed Spy,
Panda Bear,
Cybotron,
Smog,
Sparks,
Graham Central Station,
Japan,
The Divine Comedy,
Bobby Byrd,
Sandy B,
The New Christs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Make Up,
Aaron Thompson,
Marvin Gaye,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pharoah Sanders,
Henry Cow,
Q and Not U,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fuzztones,
Albert Ayler,
Wire,
Tres Demented,
Fugazi,
Suicide,
The Remains,
Cal Tjader,
Iggy Pop,
Sight & Sound,
Qualms,
the Swans,
Deepchord,
Soul II Soul,
June of 44,
The Victims,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pylon,
Brothers Johnson,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Slave,
The Black Dice,
New Age Steppers,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.