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 Somalia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Scan 7 to the dance 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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry 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 rap 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 a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Lungfish,
John Foxx,
Faust,
Arab on Radar,
Yaz,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Sällskapet,
Amon Düül,
Magma,
John Cale,
Pole,
The Cure,
The Victims,
Hoover,
The Durutti Column,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eurythmics,
Minor Threat,
The Pretty Things,
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bill Near,
Bad Manners,
Mantronix,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Y Pants,
Archie Shepp,
Theoretical Girls,
Crooked Eye,
K-Klass,
Jerry's Kids,
Sonny Sharrock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Beau Brummels,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott Heron,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bauhaus,
Camouflage,
Zapp,
Urselle,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Clear Light,
Kurtis Blow,
DJ Style,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crime,
KRS-One,
Black Sheep,
Agitation Free,
Monks,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Alphaville,
Basic Channel,
Intrusion,
the Bar-Kays,
Stetsasonic,
Jeru the Damaja,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.