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 Vanuatu and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe 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 Cecil Taylor to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
Hot Snakes,
Bill Wells,
Hoover,
Outsiders,
Pylon,
Ice-T,
Bobby Womack,
The Shadows of Knight,
Magazine,
Animal Collective,
Stereo Dub,
Avey Tare,
James White and The Blacks,
Connie Case,
Prince Buster,
Monks,
Accadde A,
Wire,
Chrome,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Angels of Light,
Con Funk Shun,
MC5,
the Swans,
Glenn Branca,
Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oblivians,
Livin' Joy,
Porter Ricks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gang of Four,
Young Marble Giants,
Flipper,
Bobby Sherman,
Sonny Sharrock,
Johnny Osbourne,
Graham Central Station,
The Zeros,
Peter and Kerry,
Bobby Byrd,
Faust,
Amon Düül,
The Sonics,
Mark Hollis,
48th St. Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
These Immortal Souls,
Grauzone,
Clear Light,
Roy Ayers,
Electric Prunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lower 48,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Section 25,
Goldenarms,
The Beau Brummels,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.