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 Sri Lanka and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb 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 Can to the techno 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jawbox,
Heaven 17,
Lee Hazlewood,
Josef K,
Piero Umiliani,
Fad Gadget,
Bobby Womack,
Section 25,
June Days,
The Music Machine,
Kaleidoscope,
The Seeds,
Agitation Free,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hashim,
D'Angelo,
X-101,
the Association,
Echospace,
H. Thieme,
Tom Boy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Blancmange,
kango's stein massive,
Severed Heads,
Amazonics,
Sun City Girls,
Bobby Sherman,
Fluxion,
Suburban Knight,
Qualms,
Minny Pops,
Young Marble Giants,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eurythmics,
Easy Going,
Dennis Brown,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Accadde A,
Visage,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bootsy Collins,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cluster,
Lungfish,
The Litter,
Pussy Galore,
Ohio Players,
Minnie Riperton,
The Walker Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
Dark Day,
Wolf Eyes,
In Retrospect,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mummies,
Judy Mowatt,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.