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 Belarus and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Joe Smooth to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Gil Scott Heron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mojo Men,
World's Most,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Excepter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Pretty Things,
Animal Collective,
Pere Ubu,
Jacob Miller,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Music Machine,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang Green,
Albert Ayler,
The Gories,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dual Sessions,
Stiv Bators,
Lyres,
F. McDonald,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shoche,
Malaria!,
Gang Starr,
Graham Central Station,
Dennis Brown,
The Electric Prunes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Sonics,
The Pop Group,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jawbox,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Names,
Trumans Water,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kaleidoscope,
the Germs,
Monolake,
Groovy Waters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rufus Thomas,
Scan 7,
Livin' Joy,
the Human League,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ken Boothe,
Half Japanese,
Tomorrow,
Sandy B,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sparks,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.