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 Iceland and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia 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 Pantytec to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Electric Prunes,
Freddie Wadling,
Rakim,
Marmalade,
E-Dancer,
Soulsonic Force,
Kurtis Blow,
The New Christs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Starr,
Gregory Isaacs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Susan Cadogan,
The J.B.'s,
Tomorrow,
Lyres,
Pantytec,
Eric Copeland,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Toasters,
U.S. Maple,
Robert Wyatt,
F. McDonald,
Khruangbin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Iggy Pop,
The Neon Judgement,
KRS-One,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Pus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eden Ahbez,
Monks,
Pagans,
The Invisible,
Charles Mingus,
Hot Snakes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sparks,
Henry Cow,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Flesh Eaters,
Goldenarms,
Eric Dolphy,
The Last Poets,
Al Stewart,
ABBA,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kayak,
Fugazi,
Clear Light,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Hood,
Soft Cell,
Yaz,
Dark Day,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.