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 Ivory Coast and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Jakarta.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Robert Wyatt,
Johnny Osbourne,
The United States of America,
Harry Pussy,
Charles Mingus,
Animal Collective,
Todd Terry,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Durutti Column,
Saccharine Trust,
Electric Light Orchestra,
A Certain Ratio,
Laurel Aitken,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nation of Ulysses,
Delon & Dalcan,
Deadbeat,
Marc Almond,
Black Bananas,
Ponytail,
The Misunderstood,
Boogie Down Productions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tommy Roe,
The Sonics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Swans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Youth Brigade,
Rufus Thomas,
The Sound,
Magazine,
Kevin Saunderson,
Goldenarms,
Bob Dylan,
Minnie Riperton,
Das Ding,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marvin Gaye,
Connie Case,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fall,
Adolescents,
Leonard Cohen,
Black Pus,
The Kinks,
The Tremeloes,
Nico,
Don Cherry,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aswad,
The Gun Club,
Prince Buster,
Brothers Johnson,
Amazonics,
Mission of Burma,
Porter Ricks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.