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 Namibia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 Kerrie Biddell to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Goldenarms,
Jeff Mills,
The Stooges,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Chris Corsano,
Loose Ends,
Soft Machine,
DJ Style,
Heaven 17,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pere Ubu,
Youth Brigade,
Glambeats Corp.,
Girls At Our Best!,
Half Japanese,
Eric Dolphy,
The Blackbyrds,
Soulsonic Force,
Section 25,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Smooth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ronnie Foster,
The Zeros,
Mantronix,
Interpol,
The Knickerbockers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rod Modell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Spoonie Gee,
Man Parrish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Neu!,
Livin' Joy,
Terry Callier,
the Human League,
Panda Bear,
Au Pairs,
F. McDonald,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lindisfarne,
The Techniques,
John Holt,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pylon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ronan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Underground Resistance,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wolf Eyes,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.