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 Moldova and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
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 Terry Callier to the funk 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nirvana,
Con Funk Shun,
The Monochrome Set,
Blake Baxter,
Eric Copeland,
Deadbeat,
Desert Stars,
Eurythmics,
The New Christs,
Swans,
Rosa Yemen,
Ornette Coleman,
Aural Exciters,
Charles Mingus,
Nick Fraelich,
The Martian,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Ohio Players,
Ten City,
Heaven 17,
The Slackers,
Oneida,
Masters at Work,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Matthew Bourne,
R.M.O.,
Rufus Thomas,
Nas,
Nico,
Carl Craig,
The Smoke,
Das Ding,
The Blues Magoos,
Guru Guru,
Model 500,
Quando Quango,
Technova,
Babytalk,
10cc,
The Gladiators,
Average White Band,
The Motions,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wolf Eyes,
Harry Pussy,
Echospace,
Lee Hazlewood,
OOIOO,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
The Gories,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lou Reed,
Patti Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lindisfarne,
The Gun Club,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.