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 East Timor and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 mellotron 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 Wire to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
The Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Bob Dylan,
Brick,
Lalann,
The Divine Comedy,
Trumans Water,
The Searchers,
Soft Machine,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
48th St. Collective,
Audionom,
Sun Ra,
Quantec,
Kerri Chandler,
Chrome,
the Human League,
Roxy Music,
Neu!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rufus Thomas,
F. McDonald,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tres Demented,
Juan Atkins,
John Holt,
Wasted Youth,
New Order,
Boz Scaggs,
Unrelated Segments,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
UT,
Cymande,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Last Poets,
Agent Orange,
The American Breed,
Schoolly D,
The Knickerbockers,
LL Cool J,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
Depeche Mode,
Anthony Braxton,
Thompson Twins,
Mars,
The Gap Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Spoonie Gee,
The Zeros,
Ten City,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slackers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ultimate Spinach,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.