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 Pakistan and from Stockholm.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 Golliwogs to the rap 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cymande,
Eli Mardock,
Average White Band,
Ronan,
Fluxion,
Maurizio,
La Düsseldorf,
Surgeon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Procol Harum,
DJ Style,
Crime,
Slave,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Niagra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Graham Central Station,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Sherman,
The Angels of Light,
10cc,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Laurel Aitken,
Max Romeo,
Ken Boothe,
Connie Case,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Cure,
Barclay James Harvest,
Main Source,
Amazonics,
Soft Cell,
Jandek,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare,
Dual Sessions,
Sex Pistols,
The New Christs,
The Black Dice,
the Soft Cell,
Pylon,
Joensuu 1685,
Yellowson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rufus Thomas,
Iggy Pop,
Carl Craig,
Q and Not U,
Gabor Szabo,
Camberwell Now,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Heaven 17,
The Red Krayola,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.