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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Paris.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
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 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 Funkadelic to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Suicide,
DJ Sneak,
Lalann,
Bluetip,
Mandrill,
Maurizio,
Gang of Four,
Henry Cow,
Altered Images,
Pet Shop Boys,
Trumans Water,
Nation of Ulysses,
Public Image Ltd.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Moss Icon,
The Invisible,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Barracudas,
Alison Limerick,
Moebius,
Minutemen,
The Names,
Andrew Hill,
Boz Scaggs,
Erasure,
Judy Mowatt,
Surgeon,
The Searchers,
Black Flag,
Letta Mbulu,
Mary Jane Girls,
LL Cool J,
Jacob Miller,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gang Starr,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nas,
James White and The Blacks,
Hoover,
Nico,
The Fortunes,
Chris & Cosey,
H. Thieme,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Normal,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ponytail,
Harmonia,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wire,
Neil Young,
Reagan Youth,
The Velvet Underground,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eurythmics,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Tremeloes,
Ornette Coleman,
Radiohead,
Icehouse,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.