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 Switzerland and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar 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 Con Funk Shun to the rap 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Arab on Radar,
Lightning Bolt,
Juan Atkins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sugar Minott,
Bob Dylan,
Swans,
DNA,
Eve St. Jones,
David Bowie,
Morten Harket,
Silicon Teens,
Connie Case,
Byron Stingily,
Grey Daturas,
Monolake,
Avey Tare,
Davy DMX,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mission of Burma,
New Order,
The Zeros,
The Leaves,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Wells,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Popol Vuh,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Robert Hood,
The Barracudas,
Adolescents,
Traffic Nightmare,
Supertramp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Dave Gahan,
Mantronix,
Maleditus Sound,
Eli Mardock,
Derrick Morgan,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pagans,
Bauhaus,
Babytalk,
Lakeside,
Gang Starr,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Dead C,
Yellowson,
Toni Rubio,
Anthony Braxton,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Kinks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Skaos,
Lindisfarne,
The Searchers,
Eric Copeland,
Boredoms,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.