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 India and from Woodstock.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Iggy Pop to the grunge 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders 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?
Bad Manners,
The Cowsills,
Sexual Harrassment,
Subhumans,
The Gories,
Bootsy Collins,
John Coltrane,
cv313,
The Slackers,
Man Parrish,
The Motions,
Rites of Spring,
Easy Going,
Janne Schatter,
Brass Construction,
OOIOO,
Soft Machine,
Monolake,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kurtis Blow,
New York Dolls,
Barbara Tucker,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Oblivians,
Massinfluence,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deepchord,
Lou Reed,
Thee Headcoats,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dead C,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nik Kershaw,
Heaven 17,
The Selecter,
Sonny Sharrock,
X-101,
Yellowson,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jacques Brel,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rekid,
Unwound,
Accadde A,
The Offenders,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Brothers Johnson,
Reuben Wilson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Carl Craig,
Joy Division,
Lindisfarne,
Mission of Burma,
Black Moon,
The Birthday Party,
Crooked Eye,
Spoonie Gee,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.