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 Suriname and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
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 rhodes 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 Monks to the grime 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
The Birthday Party,
Erasure,
Vladislav Delay,
Bang On A Can,
Faust,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jeff Mills,
10cc,
Model 500,
Dennis Brown,
Cluster,
Lee Hazlewood,
R.M.O.,
Magma,
Silicon Teens,
Grey Daturas,
Nation of Ulysses,
PIL,
Country Teasers,
Tres Demented,
Amon Düül,
Royal Trux,
the Germs,
The Victims,
Con Funk Shun,
Wire,
OOIOO,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Throbbing Gristle,
Oneida,
Graham Central Station,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Panda Bear,
Yellowson,
Lyres,
June of 44,
Nick Fraelich,
Nas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Faraquet,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smoke,
Procol Harum,
Alice Coltrane,
Outsiders,
Bill Wells,
Rites of Spring,
Slick Rick,
Cecil Taylor,
The Sound,
The United States of America,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Angels of Light,
John Lydon,
Jesper Dahlback,
The New Christs,
Chrome,
Thee Headcoats,
Sexual Harrassment,
Monks,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.