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 Ireland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Warren Ellis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Minnie Riperton,
the Slits,
Trumans Water,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sun City Girls,
The Slackers,
Hoover,
Joyce Sims,
The Fuzztones,
Idris Muhammad,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare,
Hashim,
The Vogues,
Leonard Cohen,
Skarface,
Lou Christie,
Eden Ahbez,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Swell Maps,
The Last Poets,
Rekid,
Todd Rundgren,
Au Pairs,
Ronan,
Bootsy Collins,
The Move,
Television Personalities,
Bill Near,
Jeru the Damaja,
Siglo XX,
Audionom,
the Soft Cell,
Niagra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Residents,
Thee Headcoats,
Mo-Dettes,
Pylon,
Lou Reed,
Max Romeo,
The Knickerbockers,
Blancmange,
The Mummies,
The Gories,
Suburban Knight,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Bananas,
The Trojans,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Searchers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Echospace,
Scratch Acid,
Ralphi Rosario,
Underground Resistance,
The Leaves,
New Order,
The Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The American Breed,
8 Eyed Spy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.