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 Burkina and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scott Walker to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Anthony Braxton,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Names,
The Beau Brummels,
CMW,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Freddie Wadling,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Glenn Branca,
Ossler,
Unwound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Charles Mingus,
Cameo,
Sarah Menescal,
Marshall Jefferson,
Index,
Ken Boothe,
Michelle Simonal,
Scan 7,
Quadrant,
Henry Cow,
Cal Tjader,
Kaleidoscope,
Derrick Morgan,
Hoover,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Lydon,
Procol Harum,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Angry Samoans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stereo Dub,
The Young Rascals,
Girls At Our Best!,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Standells,
Eric Dolphy,
Hardrive,
Model 500,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Tears for Fears,
L. Decosne,
Neil Young,
Pantaleimon,
Matthew Halsall,
Sugar Minott,
E-Dancer,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eli Mardock,
the Slits,
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fela Kuti,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The New Christs,
Idris Muhammad,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.