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 Barbados and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Section 25,
Steve Hackett,
Minutemen,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tres Demented,
Godley & Creme,
Supertramp,
Khruangbin,
Archie Shepp,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Qualms,
The Grass Roots,
Davy DMX,
Kerri Chandler,
Sight & Sound,
John Lydon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lungfish,
Zero Boys,
Amon Düül,
The Fortunes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
B.T. Express,
Joy Division,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nirvana,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Matthew Halsall,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare,
Jacques Brel,
Bush Tetras,
Half Japanese,
Buzzcocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
These Immortal Souls,
The Red Krayola,
Joe Smooth,
Carl Craig,
Chris & Cosey,
Wasted Youth,
Black Pus,
T. Rex,
Agent Orange,
Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Divine Comedy,
K-Klass,
Max Romeo,
John Cale,
Make Up,
A Certain Ratio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Graham Central Station,
Aloha Tigers,
Sexual Harrassment,
PIL,
F. McDonald,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.