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 Kiribati and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Hoover to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Yazoo,
UT,
Sällskapet,
Radio Birdman,
The Move,
The Smoke,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Gories,
X-102,
Janne Schatter,
Pole,
Ituana,
Lakeside,
Ice-T,
The Cure,
Minutemen,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Normal,
The Young Rascals,
Tomorrow,
Graham Central Station,
Isaac Hayes,
Todd Terry,
The Selecter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eric Copeland,
Yellowson,
Aaron Thompson,
Bush Tetras,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sight & Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Technova,
Pantaleimon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Barclay James Harvest,
The New Christs,
H. Thieme,
The Stooges,
Junior Murvin,
In Retrospect,
Drexciya,
X-Ray Spex,
The Wake,
John Foxx,
Aswad,
World's Most,
Kerrie Biddell,
Barry Ungar,
Sandy B,
Half Japanese,
Mad Mike,
The Martian,
New York Dolls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
ABBA,
Stetsasonic,
OOIOO,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gladiators,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.