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 Benin and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 L. Decosne to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Stetsasonic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Moon,
L. Decosne,
Groovy Waters,
Pulsallama,
The Beau Brummels,
Roxy Music,
Scott Walker,
Half Japanese,
Shoche,
Marc Almond,
Absolute Body Control,
Gang of Four,
Nirvana,
Lou Christie,
Harmonia,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Essential Logic,
Black Pus,
Dark Day,
Rod Modell,
Heaven 17,
Jerry's Kids,
The Selecter,
Desert Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oblivians,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The United States of America,
The Names,
Roger Hodgson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sound Behaviour,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kerrie Biddell,
Freddie Wadling,
Johnny Osbourne,
Little Man,
Kaleidoscope,
Boredoms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Accadde A,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Khruangbin,
Swans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Peter & Gordon,
Television,
Mission of Burma,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wire,
Pagans,
Country Teasers,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Blackbyrds,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.