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 Swaziland and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Glenn Branca to the techno 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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Crooked Eye,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brothers Johnson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Maurizio,
Todd Terry,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Standells,
ABC,
The Busters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sällskapet,
The Techniques,
Amon Düül II,
Pantytec,
One Last Wish,
KRS-One,
Average White Band,
Rod Modell,
Amon Düül,
Make Up,
Chris & Cosey,
James White and The Blacks,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Divine Comedy,
Pussy Galore,
The Moleskins,
Echospace,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Zeros,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lucky Dragons,
The Neon Judgement,
Erasure,
Terry Callier,
The Toasters,
The Five Americans,
Das Ding,
the Slits,
Arcadia,
Nick Fraelich,
DJ Style,
Cheater Slicks,
Freddie Wadling,
Dave Gahan,
Harmonia,
Nation of Ulysses,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Wyatt,
Fatback Band,
Young Marble Giants,
Procol Harum,
The Cramps,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Reuben Wilson,
Brass Construction,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.