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 United States and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tehran.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Bobby Womack to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Los Fastidios,
Lungfish,
the Association,
Wire,
Outsiders,
AZ,
Eli Mardock,
Peter and Kerry,
Angry Samoans,
The Raincoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fela Kuti,
Q and Not U,
Spoonie Gee,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deadbeat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Amon Düül II,
The Shadows of Knight,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
Eric B and Rakim,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Section 25,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Durutti Column,
Talk Talk,
Young Marble Giants,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bauhaus,
Sparks,
D'Angelo,
Wings,
The Mojo Men,
Sister Nancy,
Royal Trux,
Agitation Free,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Kinks,
Banda Bassotti,
U.S. Maple,
John Cale,
R.M.O.,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobby Byrd,
Lee Hazlewood,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mars,
Dennis Brown,
Juan Atkins,
The Remains,
The Fall,
Nirvana,
Grauzone,
Nick Fraelich,
Wolf Eyes,
Guru Guru,
Pussy Galore,
Crispy Ambulance,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.