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 Andorra and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Anthony Braxton 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Mark Hollis,
The Dirtbombs,
Minny Pops,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Khruangbin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bad Manners,
John Lydon,
Kenny Larkin,
The Happenings,
Blossom Toes,
Fluxion,
Minnie Riperton,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Angels of Light,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Litter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
James White and The Blacks,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gun Club,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Supertramp,
Chris Corsano,
Peter and Kerry,
Scrapy,
Junior Murvin,
The American Breed,
Marvin Gaye,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gong,
48th St. Collective,
Duran Duran,
Dark Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mission of Burma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Beau Brummels,
Minor Threat,
Kaleidoscope,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Avey Tare,
Jerry's Kids,
Theoretical Girls,
Sandy B,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Zero Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grauzone,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultra Naté,
Donald Byrd,
Pylon,
Essential Logic,
Average White Band,
Subhumans,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.