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 Sierra Leone and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Pere Ubu,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Boogie Down Productions,
Metal Thangz,
Lakeside,
Essential Logic,
Young Marble Giants,
The Techniques,
Crime,
Reagan Youth,
New Age Steppers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Arab on Radar,
Derrick Morgan,
Aural Exciters,
Michelle Simonal,
The United States of America,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Radiohead,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Basic Channel,
X-Ray Spex,
Jimmy McGriff,
Arcadia,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Mummies,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
Camouflage,
Oblivians,
Grandmaster Flash,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Funkadelic,
Kenny Larkin,
Excepter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Stooges,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stockholm Monsters,
Visage,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Moon,
Gichy Dan,
The Busters,
Nick Fraelich,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boredoms,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Walker Brothers,
Mars,
The Neon Judgement,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Kinks,
The Red Krayola,
Vainqueur,
Half Japanese,
The Durutti Column,
Godley & Creme,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Electric Prunes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.