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 Kuwait and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Funkadelic to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Can,
The Barracudas,
Make Up,
The Angels of Light,
Bluetip,
Dark Day,
Wolf Eyes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Outsiders,
Robert Hood,
Joy Division,
Brothers Johnson,
T.S.O.L.,
Icehouse,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kenny Larkin,
Shuggie Otis,
Unrelated Segments,
Nas,
Susan Cadogan,
Marine Girls,
Laurel Aitken,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dave Gahan,
Roger Hodgson,
Anthony Braxton,
Erasure,
The Associates,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lucky Dragons,
Monks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Prince Buster,
Trumans Water,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Human League,
John Coltrane,
Liliput,
Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Guru Guru,
Man Parrish,
Sun City Girls,
World's Most,
Soulsonic Force,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eve St. Jones,
Derrick Morgan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Stooges,
The Mummies,
Yusef Lateef,
Negative Approach,
Infiniti,
Whodini,
the Normal,
Sparks,
Second Layer,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.