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 Portugal and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Silicon Teens to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mad Mike,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kayak,
Cymande,
Frankie Knuckles,
Malaria!,
Skarface,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Brick,
The Smoke,
X-102,
The Slackers,
Pylon,
Scion,
E-Dancer,
KRS-One,
Lyres,
Josef K,
Easy Going,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Intrusion,
Heaven 17,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
Thee Headcoats,
Cluster,
Desert Stars,
The Shadows of Knight,
DJ Sneak,
Terry Callier,
ABC,
Banda Bassotti,
Ronan,
John Cale,
The Birthday Party,
Marvin Gaye,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Green,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Martian,
The Remains,
Sister Nancy,
Ice-T,
Sparks,
The J.B.'s,
The Real Kids,
F. McDonald,
John Coltrane,
The American Breed,
Hardrive,
Byron Stingily,
Interpol,
Franke,
8 Eyed Spy,
Oneida,
Jerry's Kids,
Sam Rivers,
Ponytail,
Bang On A Can,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.