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 Swaziland and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Talk Talk to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Drexciya,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nico,
X-102,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ten City,
Television,
Das Ding,
F. McDonald,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Last Poets,
Shoche,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Robert Hood,
Average White Band,
Leonard Cohen,
Ultra Naté,
Alison Limerick,
Eddi Front,
Sight & Sound,
Barbara Tucker,
The Blues Magoos,
Harmonia,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Animal Collective,
Scan 7,
Sparks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Au Pairs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The United States of America,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dual Sessions,
Black Flag,
Amon Düül,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deakin,
Rapeman,
Pulsallama,
Mandrill,
The Young Rascals,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bang On A Can,
Lungfish,
John Holt,
Roxy Music,
Gastr Del Sol,
Byron Stingily,
Masters at Work,
the Slits,
Dennis Brown,
Youth Brigade,
Rites of Spring,
Scion,
Hardrive,
the Soft Cell,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.