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 Gabon and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Wally Richardson to the grunge 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Adolescents,
Au Pairs,
The Barracudas,
OOIOO,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rakim,
the Association,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
Groovy Waters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yellowson,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Lynne,
T. Rex,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
John Holt,
Black Bananas,
Robert Görl,
The Saints,
The Gories,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nik Kershaw,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Germs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
FM Einheit,
the Sonics,
The Fugs,
Lakeside,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Cure,
Angry Samoans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
Los Fastidios,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kayak,
Gil Scott Heron,
Avey Tare,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Section 25,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Beau Brummels,
Fugazi,
David Bowie,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
MDC,
Interpol,
Gang Green,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Vainqueur,
Suburban Knight,
Ornette Coleman,
The Tremeloes,
Deakin,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.