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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Don Cherry to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Newcleus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arthur Verocai,
The Searchers,
The Index,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kerrie Biddell,
Masters at Work,
The Offenders,
Henry Cow,
Reuben Wilson,
Pere Ubu,
Ken Boothe,
The Black Dice,
Fear,
Panda Bear,
Johnny Osbourne,
Excepter,
Alton Ellis,
The Star Department,
Joey Negro,
Todd Terry,
Cecil Taylor,
Chris & Cosey,
Niagra,
B.T. Express,
Ash Ra Tempel,
David Bowie,
PIL,
Stereo Dub,
Lee Hazlewood,
Charles Mingus,
The Barracudas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Womack,
Scratch Acid,
Minny Pops,
The Angels of Light,
Adolescents,
Slave,
Groovy Waters,
A Certain Ratio,
Slick Rick,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
Smog,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minor Threat,
Skaos,
The Fire Engines,
the Sonics,
Magazine,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gabor Szabo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sparks,
The Pop Group,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Wake,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.