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 Armenia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Tokyo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 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 Standells to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme 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 funk 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bauhaus,
Skaos,
ABC,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultra Naté,
Bang On A Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fuzztones,
the Germs,
Man Parrish,
Von Mondo,
Malaria!,
Harry Pussy,
Suicide,
Mr. Review,
Scan 7,
Babytalk,
The Saints,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rufus Thomas,
Bob Dylan,
Q and Not U,
T. Rex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Amon Düül II,
Electric Prunes,
The Remains,
Con Funk Shun,
Ice-T,
The Cramps,
Eli Mardock,
Easy Going,
Wire,
Bobby Sherman,
Whodini,
Sister Nancy,
This Heat,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Animal Collective,
Anthony Braxton,
Clear Light,
Marvin Gaye,
Erykah Badu,
The Alarm Clocks,
L. Decosne,
Swell Maps,
The Moleskins,
The Offenders,
Morten Harket,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mark Hollis,
Fad Gadget,
David Bowie,
The Neon Judgement,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
World's Most,
The American Breed,
The Real Kids,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.