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 South Sudan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Searchers to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minnie Riperton,
Thee Headcoats,
Al Stewart,
New Age Steppers,
Erasure,
Public Enemy,
Soul II Soul,
Altered Images,
The Residents,
Nils Olav,
Letta Mbulu,
Public Image Ltd.,
Q and Not U,
Faust,
Rod Modell,
Donald Byrd,
Popol Vuh,
Girls At Our Best!,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pere Ubu,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hashim,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rites of Spring,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Junior Murvin,
The Divine Comedy,
Derrick Morgan,
the Bar-Kays,
Ronnie Foster,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David Axelrod,
Kayak,
Pole,
Loose Ends,
Babytalk,
Erykah Badu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Arab on Radar,
Inner City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
John Cale,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rufus Thomas,
Negative Approach,
Yusef Lateef,
Nik Kershaw,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reagan Youth,
Chrome,
The Sisters of Mercy,
CMW,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Main Source,
John Foxx,
Flamin' Groovies,
Audionom,
The Standells,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.