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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet 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 Joe Smooth to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Man Parrish,
The Mojo Men,
Dave Gahan,
Electric Prunes,
Whodini,
Ludus,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Pus,
The Flesh Eaters,
One Last Wish,
MDC,
Make Up,
Warren Ellis,
Can,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gories,
Soulsonic Force,
Theoretical Girls,
June of 44,
Ten City,
Soul II Soul,
Lightning Bolt,
Ultra Naté,
Sandy B,
Sun City Girls,
Hashim,
Bob Dylan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cluster,
John Coltrane,
Guru Guru,
Suicide,
Bluetip,
The Angels of Light,
Main Source,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Letta Mbulu,
Barrington Levy,
R.M.O.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Birthday Party,
The Doors,
The Trojans,
Supertramp,
Mandrill,
Stiv Bators,
Altered Images,
Eric Dolphy,
Agitation Free,
Mantronix,
the Slits,
L. Decosne,
Q65,
PIL,
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers,
Joensuu 1685,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fire Engines,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.