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 Bolivia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sexual Harrassment to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Wally Richardson,
Roy Ayers,
Animal Collective,
The Cure,
Black Bananas,
Sam Rivers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Prince Buster,
a-ha,
Blancmange,
Ronan,
The Slackers,
Grauzone,
The Wake,
the Human League,
Albert Ayler,
Pierre Henry,
Popol Vuh,
The Mummies,
Absolute Body Control,
The Young Rascals,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brass Construction,
The Flesh Eaters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gladiators,
Robert Görl,
Section 25,
Boredoms,
Brothers Johnson,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale,
Crash Course in Science,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Raincoats,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eve St. Jones,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Negative Approach,
Traffic Nightmare,
Skaos,
The Sonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lalann,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Moleskins,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Evens,
Drexciya,
Zapp,
The Motions,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Warren Ellis,
Moss Icon,
Gichy Dan,
Ponytail,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.