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 Slovakia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 clarinet 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 Bang On A Can to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Sun Ra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jawbox,
Scan 7,
Ronnie Foster,
the Association,
Nik Kershaw,
Swell Maps,
Smog,
Derrick May,
Sex Pistols,
Scrapy,
Sam Rivers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Swans,
Spandau Ballet,
Grandmaster Flash,
UT,
Hoover,
Gregory Isaacs,
Flipper,
Oblivians,
Funkadelic,
FM Einheit,
The Skatalites,
Siglo XX,
Don Cherry,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Carl Craig,
Joensuu 1685,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tim Buckley,
Eric Dolphy,
Erasure,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
Rotary Connection,
Bronski Beat,
Chrome,
Marmalade,
Marvin Gaye,
The Walker Brothers,
David Bowie,
Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
Franke,
Eurythmics,
The Saints,
Pole,
Peter and Kerry,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lee Hazlewood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pere Ubu,
Audionom,
China Crisis,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Byrd,
Ken Boothe,
the Human League,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.