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 Cambodia and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Residents to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Todd Terry,
The Velvet Underground,
B.T. Express,
Andrew Hill,
The Fall,
Erykah Badu,
The Fortunes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Toasters,
Black Flag,
Dark Day,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eli Mardock,
Roy Ayers,
Sex Pistols,
DJ Sneak,
Public Enemy,
The Moody Blues,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Moon,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Monks,
CMW,
Stereo Dub,
Nation of Ulysses,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
DNA,
Audionom,
Judy Mowatt,
Bush Tetras,
John Holt,
Moss Icon,
the Normal,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nirvana,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sight & Sound,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scan 7,
Skarface,
Flipper,
Bobbi Humphrey,
F. McDonald,
Yazoo,
The Cowsills,
Moebius,
X-102,
Los Fastidios,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scott Walker,
Tom Boy,
Crime,
Agent Orange,
A Certain Ratio,
Kayak,
Funkadelic,
Livin' Joy,
The Cramps,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.