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 Turkmenistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Radiohead to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Heaven 17,
Animal Collective,
Guru Guru,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Public Enemy,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
H. Thieme,
New York Dolls,
Anthony Braxton,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultimate Spinach,
Warsaw,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Roxy Music,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Malaria!,
Basic Channel,
Lakeside,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jeff Lynne,
Khruangbin,
Josef K,
Bill Wells,
Adolescents,
Marvin Gaye,
Ten City,
the Human League,
The Moleskins,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Five Americans,
Crash Course in Science,
Bang On A Can,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nation of Ulysses,
Chrome,
Erasure,
The Cure,
Panda Bear,
Visage,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Görl,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Detroit Cobras,
The United States of America,
The Walker Brothers,
AZ,
Essential Logic,
Deepchord,
Chris & Cosey,
The Martian,
Joey Negro,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lou Reed,
T.S.O.L.,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fortunes,
U.S. Maple,
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.