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 United Kingdom and from Bologna.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crispian St. Peters to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
U.S. Maple,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Franke,
Q and Not U,
Organ,
Bang On A Can,
Lebanon Hanover,
Drexciya,
Harry Pussy,
Funkadelic,
Derrick Morgan,
The Seeds,
The Mojo Men,
Josef K,
The Index,
Pulsallama,
Bobby Womack,
Archie Shepp,
Lalann,
Eddi Front,
The Monochrome Set,
Kaleidoscope,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Man Parrish,
Aaron Thompson,
Colin Newman,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oblivians,
Blossom Toes,
Letta Mbulu,
The Residents,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fear,
Los Fastidios,
Suicide,
Eric Copeland,
The Martian,
Groovy Waters,
Jacob Miller,
The Wake,
The Techniques,
Outsiders,
The Neon Judgement,
The Zeros,
Hasil Adkins,
the Germs,
Alphaville,
Qualms,
Sonny Sharrock,
In Retrospect,
Television,
Mary Jane Girls,
DJ Sneak,
Tim Buckley,
The Remains,
Howard Jones,
The Happenings,
Spoonie Gee,
Don Cherry,
Kas Product,
Radio Birdman,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.