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 Paraguay and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobbi Humphrey 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Alarm Clocks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Janne Schatter,
Sun Ra,
Icehouse,
Robert Görl,
The Move,
Sandy B,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ituana,
Faraquet,
Parry Music,
Unwound,
The J.B.'s,
R.M.O.,
The Mummies,
Eli Mardock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Neil Young,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Swans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Slave,
Lebanon Hanover,
Iggy Pop,
Peter and Kerry,
Peter & Gordon,
Spoonie Gee,
New York Dolls,
Chris & Cosey,
Lyres,
Reagan Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pagans,
Hot Snakes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Erykah Badu,
Howard Jones,
CMW,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Maleditus Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
PIL,
Black Pus,
Fluxion,
Rotary Connection,
The Blues Magoos,
Desert Stars,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rod Modell,
Sällskapet,
The Human League,
Robert Hood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alton Ellis,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Neon Judgement,
The Offenders,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.