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 South Africa and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord 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 Public Enemy to the funk 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Agent Orange,
Jeff Lynne,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Lower 48,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang Starr,
The Barracudas,
The Martian,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Davy DMX,
The Gap Band,
The Doors,
Banda Bassotti,
Von Mondo,
Saccharine Trust,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cal Tjader,
Girls At Our Best!,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ossler,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mission of Burma,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
U.S. Maple,
The Skatalites,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Dead C,
Bush Tetras,
Marmalade,
Malaria!,
Electric Prunes,
Lou Christie,
Gregory Isaacs,
Deakin,
Matthew Halsall,
Swell Maps,
Model 500,
Dawn Penn,
X-102,
The Cure,
Pylon,
Moebius,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy Collins,
Tomorrow,
La Düsseldorf,
Quantec,
June of 44,
the Bar-Kays,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Susan Cadogan,
Yusef Lateef,
Sugar Minott,
Procol Harum,
Blake Baxter,
Bill Near,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.