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 Maldives and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the rap 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Yellowson,
The Fugs,
The Smoke,
The Shadows of Knight,
B.T. Express,
the Slits,
Connie Case,
Bob Dylan,
Bush Tetras,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aloha Tigers,
The Victims,
Bronski Beat,
Arcadia,
Niagra,
Max Romeo,
Television Personalities,
Jawbox,
Barbara Tucker,
Dead Boys,
Sight & Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Echospace,
L. Decosne,
Brand Nubian,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gastr Del Sol,
Intrusion,
Rakim,
Eurythmics,
The Standells,
The Invisible,
Steve Hackett,
Ituana,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Oblivians,
Yusef Lateef,
Fela Kuti,
Boredoms,
The Litter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Con Funk Shun,
Bill Near,
The Residents,
Scan 7,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kenny Larkin,
Rufus Thomas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Byrd,
Prince Buster,
Motorama,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Mummies,
The American Breed,
Thee Headcoats,
The Knickerbockers,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.