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 Uzbekistan and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Joe Finger 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pierre Henry,
Crime,
Tears for Fears,
8 Eyed Spy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scott Walker,
Organ,
Josef K,
Wings,
Barry Ungar,
Albert Ayler,
Young Marble Giants,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pylon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Wyatt,
Sixth Finger,
Pere Ubu,
Smog,
Moebius,
The Star Department,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Das Ding,
Mantronix,
The Walker Brothers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Section 25,
Crash Course in Science,
The Stooges,
Ossler,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Amon Düül,
Loose Ends,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fat Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Shuggie Otis,
Joey Negro,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
Carl Craig,
Bill Near,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Robert Hood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blossom Toes,
The Real Kids,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Ronnie Foster,
The Flesh Eaters,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Cal Tjader,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pole,
Joensuu 1685,
Wasted Youth,
Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free.
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.