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 Uzbekistan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Ludus,
Supertramp,
Dark Day,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ituana,
Pussy Galore,
Kayak,
Brass Construction,
Vladislav Delay,
Avey Tare,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Kinks,
Gabor Szabo,
Sam Rivers,
Joyce Sims,
Rekid,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Tremeloes,
The Neon Judgement,
Johnny Clarke,
Warsaw,
Kenny Larkin,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang of Four,
The Skatalites,
Robert Görl,
Zapp,
Wire,
Idris Muhammad,
Minnie Riperton,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lakeside,
Aaron Thompson,
Agitation Free,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Pretty Things,
The Golliwogs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fela Kuti,
Mr. Review,
Slick Rick,
Mantronix,
Joe Finger,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
UT,
Maleditus Sound,
Todd Terry,
Funky Four + One,
Chris & Cosey,
Gichy Dan,
Au Pairs,
Cheater Slicks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Normal,
Soft Machine,
Juan Atkins,
Visage,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.