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 Papua New Guinea and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Outsiders to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pylon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Max Romeo,
The Dirtbombs,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bluetip,
Soft Machine,
Tres Demented,
L. Decosne,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slick Rick,
Cecil Taylor,
The Mojo Men,
Tomorrow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pet Shop Boys,
In Retrospect,
Soulsonic Force,
Simply Red,
Excepter,
Marmalade,
The Fall,
D'Angelo,
X-102,
Japan,
Funkadelic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Severed Heads,
Rapeman,
Skriet,
Can,
The Human League,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gichy Dan,
The Pretty Things,
Harpers Bizarre,
Von Mondo,
Joe Smooth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Zapp,
MC5,
Andrew Hill,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Quando Quango,
Cal Tjader,
Banda Bassotti,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Al Stewart,
Panda Bear,
Heaven 17,
Todd Rundgren,
Kas Product,
Reagan Youth,
Lucky Dragons,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.