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 Congo and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
X-102,
World's Most,
The Martian,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Names,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Qualms,
Bang On A Can,
Vainqueur,
The Fall,
Gang Gang Dance,
CMW,
Panda Bear,
Patti Smith,
Television Personalities,
the Slits,
The Cure,
X-Ray Spex,
U.S. Maple,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Metal Thangz,
Man Parrish,
Ultravox,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lungfish,
Monolake,
Albert Ayler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Amon Düül II,
Buzzcocks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Anthony Braxton,
Erykah Badu,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Alison Limerick,
Connie Case,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
Japan,
Essential Logic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Magma,
Faust,
The Monks,
The Selecter,
Colin Newman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rod Modell,
Barbara Tucker,
DJ Sneak,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jacques Brel,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fugazi,
The Slackers,
Depeche Mode,
The Music Machine,
Deadbeat,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.