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 Georgia and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the organ 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the grunge 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Amon Düül II,
Das Ding,
Sight & Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
Hashim,
Kerri Chandler,
Ten City,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sonny Sharrock,
Echospace,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Swell Maps,
Soft Cell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stetsasonic,
Wire,
New York Dolls,
Cecil Taylor,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dennis Brown,
The Doors,
World's Most,
Maleditus Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Pus,
The Martian,
Bobby Sherman,
Hoover,
Letta Mbulu,
Dual Sessions,
Agent Orange,
Steve Hackett,
Ohio Players,
the Association,
Pere Ubu,
Crash Course in Science,
Newcleus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Vogues,
Boogie Down Productions,
UT,
Funkadelic,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Saints,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bauhaus,
Oblivians,
Pole,
Zero Boys,
The Skatalites,
Derrick May,
The Pretty Things,
ABBA,
Con Funk Shun,
Eddi Front,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Wolf Eyes,
Alison Limerick,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.