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 Saudi Arabia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Freddie Wadling to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
John Foxx,
Goldenarms,
Warren Ellis,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Vogues,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Blake Baxter,
Johnny Clarke,
The Moleskins,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dennis Brown,
Bill Near,
Steve Hackett,
The Real Kids,
Bang On A Can,
Hashim,
Quando Quango,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ten City,
Malaria!,
Roy Ayers,
Desert Stars,
The Gories,
Roger Hodgson,
Alton Ellis,
The Beau Brummels,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scratch Acid,
The Cowsills,
Das Ding,
Henry Cow,
Judy Mowatt,
Robert Wyatt,
The Kinks,
Make Up,
Magma,
Aaron Thompson,
James White and The Blacks,
E-Dancer,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Swans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Fugs,
Boredoms,
Sight & Sound,
Procol Harum,
Wally Richardson,
Qualms,
Cecil Taylor,
The Martian,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.