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 Montenegro and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Fortunes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Erasure,
Fugazi,
Pulsallama,
Jeff Lynne,
The Mojo Men,
K-Klass,
The Index,
Alice Coltrane,
The Grass Roots,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Bar-Kays,
Byron Stingily,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jacques Brel,
JFA,
Kurtis Blow,
New Age Steppers,
The Motions,
D'Angelo,
the Human League,
Suburban Knight,
Blossom Toes,
Pole,
L. Decosne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eve St. Jones,
Bill Near,
Barrington Levy,
Lakeside,
Carl Craig,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Moleskins,
The Buckinghams,
Newcleus,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Toasters,
Soft Machine,
kango's stein massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Al Stewart,
Henry Cow,
AZ,
The Kinks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Young Marble Giants,
Sun City Girls,
Inner City,
The Residents,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Warren Ellis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mission of Burma,
DJ Sneak,
Aaron Thompson,
Zero Boys,
Bluetip,
Nas,
The Saints,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.