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 Gambia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Almond to the funk 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Misunderstood,
Smog,
The Blackbyrds,
The Knickerbockers,
U.S. Maple,
Judy Mowatt,
Eve St. Jones,
Blake Baxter,
Marine Girls,
Soulsonic Force,
The Slackers,
Intrusion,
Darondo,
Inner City,
Stetsasonic,
Soft Machine,
Minutemen,
Cameo,
The J.B.'s,
The Motions,
Prince Buster,
Tommy Roe,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ronnie Foster,
The Toasters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eddi Front,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pulsallama,
The Cramps,
Joensuu 1685,
Man Parrish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rekid,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minnie Riperton,
The Martian,
Surgeon,
Marc Almond,
The Pretty Things,
The Kinks,
The Modern Lovers,
Radiohead,
Yaz,
Terry Callier,
Soul II Soul,
Altered Images,
Yellowson,
Livin' Joy,
The Sonics,
Y Pants,
Half Japanese,
Siglo XX,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Angry Samoans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sister Nancy,
The Electric Prunes,
the Swans,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.