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 Colombia and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barrington Levy to the crunk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Connie Case,
Symarip,
The Misunderstood,
Letta Mbulu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Terry Callier,
Khruangbin,
The Velvet Underground,
The Five Americans,
MDC,
Magazine,
Alton Ellis,
Black Flag,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ossler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Happenings,
Jeff Mills,
John Holt,
Neu!,
Byron Stingily,
Sparks,
Mars,
Procol Harum,
Robert Hood,
The Monks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kaleidoscope,
Eli Mardock,
Yaz,
Matthew Halsall,
Main Source,
Drive Like Jehu,
Young Marble Giants,
Piero Umiliani,
Babytalk,
Flash Fearless,
The Fortunes,
The Human League,
Wire,
Joe Finger,
Ultravox,
Prince Buster,
Harry Pussy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
B.T. Express,
Althea and Donna,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Standells,
The Star Department,
X-102,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Germs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deadbeat,
The Modern Lovers,
Severed Heads,
Brick,
The Blues Magoos,
The Mojo Men,
Marvin Gaye,
Avey Tare,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.