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 Argentina and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sparks to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-Ray Spex,
Motorama,
Anthony Braxton,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Essential Logic,
The Blues Magoos,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Harmonia,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lower 48,
Reuben Wilson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minor Threat,
Babytalk,
Scion,
June of 44,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kaleidoscope,
the Swans,
The Modern Lovers,
Bauhaus,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aswad,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rosa Yemen,
The Neon Judgement,
The Skatalites,
D'Angelo,
The Victims,
Darondo,
the Slits,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Searchers,
Masters at Work,
Harry Pussy,
Kurtis Blow,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bronski Beat,
Rekid,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The United States of America,
Duran Duran,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
Porter Ricks,
Pere Ubu,
Barbara Tucker,
Skriet,
World's Most,
The Raincoats,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Trumans Water,
Hoover,
Archie Shepp,
Grauzone,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.