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 Monaco and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the jazz 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Oneida,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Tremeloes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Metal Thangz,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ituana,
Graham Central Station,
Main Source,
Lou Reed,
Ludus,
Joy Division,
Pantaleimon,
Nick Fraelich,
Kayak,
Tim Buckley,
Althea and Donna,
Silicon Teens,
John Cale,
World's Most,
The Electric Prunes,
Sister Nancy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sex Pistols,
Nation of Ulysses,
Q and Not U,
Joe Finger,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Suicide,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Animal Collective,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Last Poets,
Jacques Brel,
The Real Kids,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
ABBA,
The Monks,
Basic Channel,
Carl Craig,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scrapy,
The Fire Engines,
Pierre Henry,
The Seeds,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.