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 Jamaica and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the rap 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 Oneida. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Wings,
Drexciya,
Blancmange,
The Star Department,
Danielle Patucci,
John Holt,
Throbbing Gristle,
Johnny Osbourne,
Vainqueur,
Warren Ellis,
Suicide,
Motorama,
The Cramps,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Don Cherry,
Funkadelic,
Babytalk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Brass Construction,
Outsiders,
Guru Guru,
Dave Gahan,
Moebius,
Ken Boothe,
Kerri Chandler,
Roxette,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fat Boys,
Prince Buster,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Associates,
Peter & Gordon,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gories,
Laurel Aitken,
Deepchord,
David Bowie,
Grandmaster Flash,
Hoover,
The Monochrome Set,
Sex Pistols,
Negative Approach,
Desert Stars,
Joyce Sims,
Moby Grape,
Joey Negro,
Ice-T,
Bush Tetras,
Ituana,
Rekid,
Index,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dark Day,
Deakin,
Jawbox,
Metal Thangz,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mojo Men,
The Fire Engines,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.