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 Vanuatu and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Rites of Spring to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail 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?
Jimmy McGriff,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Section 25,
Bobby Sherman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tommy Roe,
James White and The Blacks,
Interpol,
John Foxx,
Amazonics,
Pierre Henry,
The Slits,
Joey Negro,
H. Thieme,
Yellowson,
The Blackbyrds,
Blake Baxter,
Spandau Ballet,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
the Association,
Blossom Toes,
Cameo,
These Immortal Souls,
The Birthday Party,
Iggy Pop,
Inner City,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Derrick May,
E-Dancer,
The Five Americans,
The Fortunes,
Dual Sessions,
Reagan Youth,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rufus Thomas,
John Cale,
Robert Görl,
Scratch Acid,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Hill,
Sonic Youth,
The Techniques,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Parry Music,
Idris Muhammad,
Junior Murvin,
Gong,
Lower 48,
Terry Callier,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Girls At Our Best!,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Livin' Joy,
The New Christs,
Sandy B,
U.S. Maple,
Scrapy,
Black Pus,
Tim Buckley,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rotary Connection,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.