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 Bangladesh and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes 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 Black Pus to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Scratch Acid,
Buzzcocks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sister Nancy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Skarface,
Marine Girls,
Smog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lyres,
Suicide,
John Lydon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Infiniti,
Anakelly,
Fluxion,
The Slits,
The Blackbyrds,
Max Romeo,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gladiators,
Icehouse,
The Move,
Joyce Sims,
Wire,
The New Christs,
Flipper,
the Association,
Animal Collective,
Simply Red,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amazonics,
The Gories,
Rapeman,
Todd Terry,
Harry Pussy,
Joensuu 1685,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gichy Dan,
Television Personalities,
Desert Stars,
Adolescents,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Audionom,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alison Limerick,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Grass Roots,
The Toasters,
Talk Talk,
Pylon,
Babytalk,
Newcleus,
Stereo Dub,
Qualms,
Andrew Hill,
The Residents,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.