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 El Salvador and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the rock 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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zapp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Von Mondo,
Minnie Riperton,
Colin Newman,
The Tremeloes,
Los Fastidios,
Fela Kuti,
X-101,
Interpol,
Todd Rundgren,
The Music Machine,
Peter & Gordon,
Dawn Penn,
the Swans,
Wire,
the Slits,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Slackers,
Fat Boys,
Grey Daturas,
The American Breed,
Simply Red,
Kurtis Blow,
Slave,
Harpers Bizarre,
Index,
Bluetip,
Kaleidoscope,
the Normal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mars,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Invisible,
Ponytail,
Bizarre Inc.,
Toni Rubio,
Dual Sessions,
Chrome,
The Mummies,
Faust,
Qualms,
The Trojans,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Dirtbombs,
Fluxion,
Babytalk,
Icehouse,
Brick,
Jacob Miller,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rufus Thomas,
the Soft Cell,
Derrick May,
Stetsasonic,
Groovy Waters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jesper Dahlback,
Drexciya,
Section 25,
Ultravox,
Nico,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.