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 Philippines and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Johnny Clarke to the punk 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Index,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Angry Samoans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bob Dylan,
The Standells,
Neu!,
U.S. Maple,
Scientists,
The Beau Brummels,
Marc Almond,
Quadrant,
Barrington Levy,
Kurtis Blow,
Livin' Joy,
Roxy Music,
Ronnie Foster,
Scrapy,
The Knickerbockers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Little Man,
AZ,
The Gladiators,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Henry Cow,
Sex Pistols,
The Misunderstood,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Siglo XX,
Unwound,
Tubeway Army,
Erykah Badu,
Television Personalities,
Anthony Braxton,
A Certain Ratio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Peter and Kerry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Cell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
David Axelrod,
The New Christs,
These Immortal Souls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fela Kuti,
Altered Images,
Mark Hollis,
Donald Byrd,
Fear,
Soul II Soul,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roxette,
Drive Like Jehu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Johnny Clarke,
The Trojans,
Judy Mowatt,
Monolake,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.