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 Suriname and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum 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 Association to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Pagans,
Lou Reed,
Theoretical Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Ken Boothe,
Ten City,
Matthew Bourne,
The Kinks,
The Move,
Simply Red,
Brick,
Ponytail,
Japan,
The Barracudas,
Todd Rundgren,
The Selecter,
Stereo Dub,
Eric Dolphy,
Eric Copeland,
Chris Corsano,
The Sonics,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lindisfarne,
In Retrospect,
Section 25,
Fad Gadget,
The Litter,
Aural Exciters,
Tears for Fears,
Das Ding,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Joe Smooth,
Marc Almond,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The United States of America,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pharoah Sanders,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Cramps,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
DJ Sneak,
Man Parrish,
T. Rex,
Television,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alice Coltrane,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The J.B.'s,
New York Dolls,
cv313,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood,
Dark Day,
Terry Callier,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marine Girls,
Agent Orange,
Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel.
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.