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 the UAE and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 James White and The Blacks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Angry Samoans,
Cybotron,
Nas,
Glambeats Corp.,
Blancmange,
Lucky Dragons,
Warren Ellis,
Flash Fearless,
Underground Resistance,
Lindisfarne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
Freddie Wadling,
Grandmaster Flash,
Faust,
Ultimate Spinach,
Frankie Knuckles,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Archie Shepp,
Althea and Donna,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Golliwogs,
Pylon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Darondo,
Ornette Coleman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Thompson Twins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Khruangbin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Skarface,
Monolake,
Tropical Tobacco,
Henry Cow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Deakin,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Surgeon,
Derrick Morgan,
The Move,
John Holt,
The Fortunes,
Mark Hollis,
Guru Guru,
Cymande,
Brass Construction,
Harry Pussy,
The Sound,
Unwound,
Hot Snakes,
John Lydon,
Sugar Minott,
Banda Bassotti,
Pere Ubu,
Gang Starr,
Theoretical Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
Gang Gang Dance,
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.