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 El Salvador and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 H. Thieme to the dance 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 Shoche. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Suicide,
Soft Machine,
Slave,
The Five Americans,
Hot Snakes,
Sandy B,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eddi Front,
The Remains,
Goldenarms,
Arthur Verocai,
Minny Pops,
Letta Mbulu,
10cc,
Idris Muhammad,
Peter and Kerry,
Country Teasers,
Mandrill,
48th St. Collective,
Black Flag,
Maleditus Sound,
The Golliwogs,
Bobby Sherman,
Ronan,
MC5,
Second Layer,
Howard Jones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Maurizio,
Ornette Coleman,
Angry Samoans,
The American Breed,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Banda Bassotti,
Ultravox,
Rekid,
The Cure,
Mo-Dettes,
Bill Wells,
One Last Wish,
Das Ding,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dave Gahan,
Lou Reed,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skarface,
Scientists,
Morten Harket,
Gichy Dan,
Jeff Mills,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Con Funk Shun,
Animal Collective,
Arcadia,
The Real Kids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T. Rex,
Inner City,
Monks,
Rapeman,
Basic Channel,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.