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 Bolivia and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Leaves to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barbara Tucker,
Chris & Cosey,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scientists,
Depeche Mode,
Fugazi,
The Litter,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dirtbombs,
Scan 7,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang of Four,
The Smoke,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
This Heat,
Tim Buckley,
cv313,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mr. Review,
Livin' Joy,
The Gladiators,
Eli Mardock,
The Young Rascals,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter & Gordon,
Marmalade,
Interpol,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minnie Riperton,
Hardrive,
the Germs,
Soulsonic Force,
Icehouse,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
New Order,
Technova,
the Slits,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monolake,
Anthony Braxton,
Throbbing Gristle,
Spoonie Gee,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sun Ra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Electric Prunes,
Mission of Burma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fear,
Kayak,
Sonic Youth,
The Cramps,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Reuben Wilson,
Fatback Band,
Barry Ungar,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.