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 Georgia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the jazz 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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Jandek,
Royal Trux,
Marshall Jefferson,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gap Band,
Man Parrish,
Anakelly,
Fad Gadget,
PIL,
Negative Approach,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Skatalites,
Sandy B,
Laurel Aitken,
Lucky Dragons,
Reagan Youth,
Eddi Front,
Boz Scaggs,
Lindisfarne,
Neil Young,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Holt,
Iggy Pop,
La Düsseldorf,
Minutemen,
The Zeros,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Sherman,
Sun Ra,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deepchord,
Sun City Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Barbara Tucker,
Pole,
Michelle Simonal,
The Divine Comedy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Graham Central Station,
The Fall,
Wally Richardson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The New Christs,
Roger Hodgson,
Das Ding,
Matthew Bourne,
Suburban Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Residents,
Curtis Mayfield,
Parry Music,
Newcleus,
Kayak,
Quantec,
Pere Ubu,
Index,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.