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 Mozambique and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pierre Henry to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Groovy Waters,
David Axelrod,
Faraquet,
The Mojo Men,
John Foxx,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Camouflage,
Neil Young,
Aswad,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Hood,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Searchers,
Bob Dylan,
Hoover,
Excepter,
The Leaves,
The Pretty Things,
The American Breed,
Soft Machine,
Godley & Creme,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Association,
Public Enemy,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Byrd,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Byron Stingily,
Television,
Average White Band,
The Knickerbockers,
Intrusion,
48th St. Collective,
LL Cool J,
Cheater Slicks,
Yellowson,
New Order,
Quantec,
X-Ray Spex,
Leonard Cohen,
Barry Ungar,
Black Moon,
Alton Ellis,
Fad Gadget,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Fat Boys,
Kas Product,
R.M.O.,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fire Engines,
Shuggie Otis,
The Move,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Tremeloes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mars,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.