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 Kyrgyzstan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Inner City to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
June Days,
Harry Pussy,
Spandau Ballet,
Al Stewart,
Scratch Acid,
Angry Samoans,
Carl Craig,
The Music Machine,
Suburban Knight,
The Pretty Things,
Robert Wyatt,
PIL,
The Black Dice,
Moss Icon,
The Leaves,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Excepter,
Sight & Sound,
Popol Vuh,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
The Martian,
Mad Mike,
Max Romeo,
Jeff Lynne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Chrome,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
T.S.O.L.,
The Fugs,
Section 25,
Buzzcocks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Public Enemy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Yellowson,
Q65,
Eurythmics,
Faraquet,
MDC,
Arab on Radar,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Brand Nubian,
Joe Smooth,
These Immortal Souls,
Cluster,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Residents,
Niagra,
Don Cherry,
Bill Wells,
Throbbing Gristle,
Franke,
Zapp,
The Index,
Fear,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.