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 Mauritania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eve St. Jones to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Bluetip,
Yellowson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lindisfarne,
Marc Almond,
Steve Hackett,
Terry Callier,
Rhythm & Sound,
Patti Smith,
Girls At Our Best!,
Al Stewart,
T. Rex,
Andrew Hill,
Au Pairs,
Hoover,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker,
Colin Newman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
a-ha,
Los Fastidios,
Hot Snakes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Con Funk Shun,
James White and The Blacks,
Mr. Review,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pet Shop Boys,
Metal Thangz,
DNA,
Ken Boothe,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Visage,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
John Lydon,
Young Marble Giants,
Shuggie Otis,
The Moody Blues,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Bar-Kays,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The New Christs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minutemen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Stereo Dub,
Moby Grape,
Carl Craig,
Soft Machine,
Harry Pussy,
Television,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
U.S. Maple,
Blossom Toes,
Soulsonic Force,
Agent Orange,
Skaos,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.