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 Kiribati and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 The Slackers to the grime 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
The Remains,
The Misunderstood,
The Golliwogs,
Laurel Aitken,
Rekid,
Godley & Creme,
Infiniti,
Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Pop Group,
FM Einheit,
Sexual Harrassment,
Talk Talk,
The Smoke,
Skaos,
X-101,
Black Sheep,
Terry Callier,
Gang Starr,
The Buckinghams,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Duran Duran,
Mars,
Fluxion,
Basic Channel,
Eurythmics,
Thompson Twins,
Erykah Badu,
Arthur Verocai,
Idris Muhammad,
Sight & Sound,
Deakin,
Eddi Front,
Television Personalities,
MDC,
Porter Ricks,
Blossom Toes,
Ossler,
ABC,
Albert Ayler,
The Fire Engines,
Pussy Galore,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Robert Görl,
Oblivians,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Happenings,
The Selecter,
Black Moon,
Kayak,
Gong,
Ken Boothe,
Qualms,
Crooked Eye,
Grandmaster Flash,
Amazonics,
Pantytec,
The Trojans,
The Electric Prunes,
Audionom,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.