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 Djibouti and from Accra.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Camouflage to the punk 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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Slick Rick,
Jimmy McGriff,
Siglo XX,
The Fuzztones,
The Slits,
The Cosmic Jokers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ten City,
The Human League,
John Cale,
Magma,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fugazi,
Graham Central Station,
Harmonia,
Big Daddy Kane,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Trojans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Toni Rubio,
Sun City Girls,
Fatback Band,
Ronan,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Dirtbombs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Blancmange,
Brothers Johnson,
Barrington Levy,
Rufus Thomas,
Alice Coltrane,
Hoover,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Little Man,
Loose Ends,
DJ Style,
Nik Kershaw,
Das Ding,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Swell Maps,
Zero Boys,
Iggy Pop,
The Fugs,
Pussy Galore,
Brand Nubian,
Minor Threat,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Fire Engines,
Section 25,
New Age Steppers,
Arcadia,
Aaron Thompson,
Rhythm & Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.