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 Suriname and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 organ 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 The Beau Brummels to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Connie Case,
Easy Going,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Blancmange,
Carl Craig,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Warren Ellis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Darondo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Japan,
Erasure,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alice Coltrane,
A Certain Ratio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeff Mills,
Marmalade,
Sonic Youth,
Gang of Four,
The Moody Blues,
Rhythm & Sound,
cv313,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Alison Limerick,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Wings,
A Flock of Seagulls,
L. Decosne,
Rapeman,
Pussy Galore,
Tom Boy,
Eric Copeland,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Theoretical Girls,
JFA,
The Monks,
Supertramp,
The Residents,
Animal Collective,
Can,
Underground Resistance,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Barracudas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Techniques,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Foxx,
Nils Olav,
Eddi Front,
June Days,
X-102,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Sheep,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
The United States of America,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.