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 Gabon and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Pere Ubu to the electroclash 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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
The Martian,
AZ,
Con Funk Shun,
Steve Hackett,
The Music Machine,
John Lydon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Techniques,
Pussy Galore,
Q65,
Hasil Adkins,
Joe Finger,
FM Einheit,
Procol Harum,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yusef Lateef,
OOIOO,
Throbbing Gristle,
Clear Light,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Knickerbockers,
Pantytec,
The Doors,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
X-101,
The Selecter,
KRS-One,
Masters at Work,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Foxx,
Black Flag,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
B.T. Express,
Harmonia,
Jacques Brel,
Rites of Spring,
Delta 5,
Terrestrial Tones,
Zero Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Brass Construction,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Toasters,
Andrew Hill,
Motorama,
Grauzone,
DJ Style,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Sheep,
Camouflage,
Jerry's Kids,
Chris Corsano,
Jacob Miller,
Kerri Chandler,
Rosa Yemen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Victims,
Lee Hazlewood,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.