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 Jamaica and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Nirvana to the jazz 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills 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 a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Lungfish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
DJ Style,
Barry Ungar,
Young Marble Giants,
Steve Hackett,
The Busters,
Royal Trux,
Pole,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Alarm Clocks,
a-ha,
Newcleus,
ABBA,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
T.S.O.L.,
Porter Ricks,
Skriet,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Pretty Things,
Mad Mike,
Visage,
Black Sheep,
Sun Ra,
Sällskapet,
Blake Baxter,
Anthony Braxton,
Yaz,
Tomorrow,
The Gap Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Erykah Badu,
Piero Umiliani,
The Martian,
Bill Near,
Warren Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Little Man,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tim Buckley,
Faraquet,
The Cure,
The Residents,
Iggy Pop,
8 Eyed Spy,
Roxette,
The Dave Clark Five,
Soul II Soul,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fuzztones,
Gabor Szabo,
Urselle,
Prince Buster,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hot Snakes,
David Axelrod,
Scrapy,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.