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 Ethiopia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Susan Cadogan to the jazz 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Donald Byrd,
Darondo,
Ituana,
Freddie Wadling,
Terry Callier,
John Holt,
Mark Hollis,
Pussy Galore,
Unwound,
The Raincoats,
Mad Mike,
The Gories,
Das Ding,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Prince Buster,
Pierre Henry,
Roxette,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Music Machine,
Marmalade,
Althea and Donna,
Schoolly D,
Bronski Beat,
Lyres,
Max Romeo,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Blues Magoos,
Grauzone,
The Kinks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Piero Umiliani,
The Pretty Things,
Morten Harket,
The Leaves,
The Human League,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
MDC,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dual Sessions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soft Machine,
a-ha,
Black Pus,
This Heat,
Funkadelic,
The Black Dice,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kayak,
Henry Cow,
Bill Wells,
Magazine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jesper Dahlback,
June of 44,
Von Mondo,
The Remains,
The Moody Blues,
Scan 7,
The Buckinghams,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Görl,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.