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 Fiji and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
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 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 Robert Palmer 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 The Divine Comedy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
June of 44,
Aswad,
Rekid,
Boredoms,
Royal Trux,
Y Pants,
Q and Not U,
Sparks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marine Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Sixth Finger,
Make Up,
Faraquet,
Tres Demented,
The Stooges,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pulsallama,
Brass Construction,
Tears for Fears,
Panda Bear,
Aural Exciters,
Nirvana,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fortunes,
Maurizio,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gang Gang Dance,
Interpol,
Sarah Menescal,
Piero Umiliani,
Charles Mingus,
Rakim,
Absolute Body Control,
Audionom,
Pere Ubu,
Shoche,
Adolescents,
Niagra,
K-Klass,
The Star Department,
Cecil Taylor,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sister Nancy,
UT,
Porter Ricks,
F. McDonald,
Crispy Ambulance,
KRS-One,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chris Corsano,
Cheater Slicks,
Das Ding,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stockholm Monsters,
Qualms,
Main Source,
The Slackers,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.