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 Nepal and from Milan.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 L. Decosne to the crunk 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Mojo Men,
Camouflage,
Lou Christie,
June Days,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Cheater Slicks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crime,
Heaven 17,
The Cure,
Funkadelic,
June of 44,
The Litter,
Accadde A,
Y Pants,
Crash Course in Science,
The Associates,
K-Klass,
Model 500,
Arthur Verocai,
Quantec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Masters at Work,
Maleditus Sound,
CMW,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rufus Thomas,
The Angels of Light,
Pussy Galore,
Stiv Bators,
Rod Modell,
The Cramps,
Blake Baxter,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kenny Larkin,
Sixth Finger,
Eric Dolphy,
Hashim,
Sparks,
Gabor Szabo,
Fad Gadget,
Minnie Riperton,
Henry Cow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Erasure,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mo-Dettes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
The New Christs,
Echospace,
Panda Bear,
The Slits,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Public Enemy,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.