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 Uruguay and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the grunge 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Quadrant,
the Fania All-Stars,
Faust,
June Days,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Boredoms,
Gang of Four,
Masters at Work,
The Busters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kayak,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kas Product,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
48th St. Collective,
The Gun Club,
Technova,
Iggy Pop,
Wire,
The Barracudas,
a-ha,
Byron Stingily,
Amon Düül II,
The Five Americans,
The Vogues,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Skatalites,
OOIOO,
Erasure,
Ken Boothe,
The Invisible,
Slave,
The Last Poets,
Half Japanese,
Alice Coltrane,
MC5,
Deepchord,
Duran Duran,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bauhaus,
Malaria!,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cecil Taylor,
Easy Going,
Johnny Clarke,
The Remains,
Throbbing Gristle,
Archie Shepp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Sneak,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soulsonic Force,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Zeros,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Johnny Osbourne,
China Crisis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brand Nubian,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.