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 Haiti and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Al Stewart to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
X-101,
Kaleidoscope,
Joy Division,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David Bowie,
Quadrant,
Pussy Galore,
Girls At Our Best!,
Television Personalities,
Dead Boys,
Sonny Sharrock,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mo-Dettes,
Babytalk,
Robert Wyatt,
Michelle Simonal,
Roxy Music,
The Stooges,
Pylon,
Mr. Review,
Sugar Minott,
John Cale,
Unwound,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pere Ubu,
Fear,
Moss Icon,
Fela Kuti,
Gregory Isaacs,
Letta Mbulu,
Fad Gadget,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wings,
Susan Cadogan,
Hoover,
Fatback Band,
Sandy B,
The Litter,
Drexciya,
Niagra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Main Source,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grauzone,
Harmonia,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rosa Yemen,
Stiv Bators,
Magazine,
Lucky Dragons,
Altered Images,
KRS-One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chris & Cosey,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.