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 Rwanda and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dead C to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe 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 marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Leonard Cohen,
The Zeros,
Qualms,
Monks,
Basic Channel,
Fear,
Hot Snakes,
The Motions,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tubeway Army,
The United States of America,
Young Marble Giants,
David McCallum,
Suburban Knight,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Near,
Angry Samoans,
ABC,
Danielle Patucci,
The Gories,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joe Finger,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Monochrome Set,
Minny Pops,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Lindisfarne,
Hardrive,
Livin' Joy,
Brothers Johnson,
Brick,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harry Pussy,
Subhumans,
The Wake,
Ronnie Foster,
Panda Bear,
Icehouse,
Alton Ellis,
AZ,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ultra Naté,
Sparks,
Chris & Cosey,
Popol Vuh,
The Doors,
Rotary Connection,
Nils Olav,
Blossom Toes,
the Slits,
Camouflage,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New Order,
Faraquet,
KRS-One,
Joy Division,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.