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 Morocco and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Residents to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes 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 harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Spandau Ballet,
Infiniti,
Sex Pistols,
The Selecter,
Hasil Adkins,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ronnie Foster,
Little Man,
Con Funk Shun,
Vladislav Delay,
The Birthday Party,
DJ Style,
Yazoo,
Mantronix,
Popol Vuh,
The Pop Group,
Soft Machine,
Japan,
Das Ding,
Clear Light,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
David Bowie,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Desert Stars,
Intrusion,
Jeff Lynne,
The Dirtbombs,
Byron Stingily,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Tom Boy,
Nas,
Laurel Aitken,
Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Wolf Eyes,
The Victims,
Gabor Szabo,
Jeff Mills,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kayak,
Bobbi Humphrey,
DNA,
The Beau Brummels,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantytec,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ice-T,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Fall,
Rapeman,
Brick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Model 500,
Unwound,
Pagans,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.