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 Swaziland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Roger Hodgson to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes 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 '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 It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Don Cherry,
DNA,
Davy DMX,
OOIOO,
Bauhaus,
Robert Wyatt,
Moss Icon,
Roy Ayers,
Trumans Water,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Carl Craig,
John Lydon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grey Daturas,
Black Pus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Althea and Donna,
The Fuzztones,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fear,
Barrington Levy,
Simply Red,
The Zeros,
Oneida,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cramps,
Stiv Bators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Iggy Pop,
The Divine Comedy,
Tommy Roe,
The Count Five,
Sixth Finger,
Ralphi Rosario,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lucky Dragons,
the Association,
Arthur Verocai,
Malaria!,
Ponytail,
Yazoo,
D'Angelo,
Country Teasers,
Marine Girls,
Swell Maps,
Josef K,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Durutti Column,
Fugazi,
David Bowie,
The Real Kids,
Anthony Braxton,
Pylon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Human League,
The Fortunes,
Pulsallama,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.