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 Canada and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bad Manners to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Fugazi,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Funky Four + One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Fuzztones,
The Trojans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Misunderstood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lalann,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Golliwogs,
Pulsallama,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
Black Bananas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Public Enemy,
The Fall,
the Association,
Essential Logic,
Al Stewart,
Susan Cadogan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scrapy,
The Black Dice,
Marine Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Electric Prunes,
Gregory Isaacs,
AZ,
Prince Buster,
Urselle,
Minnie Riperton,
Maurizio,
Anakelly,
Freddie Wadling,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Tremeloes,
The Seeds,
The Grass Roots,
Guru Guru,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roger Hodgson,
Symarip,
Organ,
Metal Thangz,
Gang Green,
K-Klass,
Tres Demented,
Jacob Miller,
Nils Olav,
Barbara Tucker,
Rod Modell,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
U.S. Maple,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Hill,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.