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 Ecuador and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet 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 Theoretical Girls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Moebius,
Interpol,
Supertramp,
Radiohead,
Thompson Twins,
Dark Day,
Isaac Hayes,
Godley & Creme,
Bad Manners,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Prunes,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Saints,
Joyce Sims,
Sparks,
Faust,
The Golliwogs,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Howard Jones,
Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Offenders,
The Raincoats,
Massinfluence,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Human League,
Index,
Au Pairs,
Lalann,
Y Pants,
Soulsonic Force,
Gabor Szabo,
Brothers Johnson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Parry Music,
Pole,
The Sound,
Curtis Mayfield,
Chris Corsano,
Toni Rubio,
Johnny Clarke,
Eli Mardock,
Deepchord,
Tubeway Army,
Bush Tetras,
Pussy Galore,
The Last Poets,
Kenny Larkin,
The Wake,
Prince Buster,
10cc,
The Searchers,
Ossler,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dead Boys,
The Dead C,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Robert Görl,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.