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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Bananas,
Cluster,
Ornette Coleman,
Charles Mingus,
The Standells,
Swans,
Black Pus,
Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Marine Girls,
Archie Shepp,
Soft Machine,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Make Up,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Colin Newman,
Sex Pistols,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Stereo Dub,
Khruangbin,
Joe Finger,
Aloha Tigers,
Organ,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gang Starr,
Livin' Joy,
The Zeros,
The Sound,
Symarip,
Gichy Dan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Von Mondo,
Agent Orange,
Rites of Spring,
Eddi Front,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harmonia,
Ken Boothe,
Howard Jones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fad Gadget,
The Moody Blues,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nico,
E-Dancer,
Excepter,
Negative Approach,
Newcleus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scrapy,
John Coltrane,
Byron Stingily,
Pere Ubu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pulsallama,
Gerry Rafferty,
Japan,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.