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 Ghana and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Grandmaster Flash to the crunk 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 Skaos. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Al Stewart,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Foxx,
The Associates,
Joyce Sims,
Skaos,
The Selecter,
Main Source,
June of 44,
Sam Rivers,
Lyres,
Babytalk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sex Pistols,
Gang Starr,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Raincoats,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Section 25,
Iggy Pop,
Yazoo,
Desert Stars,
Oblivians,
The Cowsills,
Mission of Burma,
Kas Product,
Joe Finger,
Index,
Carl Craig,
Flash Fearless,
Pere Ubu,
Ice-T,
Alphaville,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Human League,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ossler,
Bill Wells,
Danielle Patucci,
Animal Collective,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alison Limerick,
A Certain Ratio,
PIL,
K-Klass,
Minny Pops,
Minor Threat,
Pierre Henry,
Circle Jerks,
Slick Rick,
Mantronix,
The Offenders,
Schoolly D,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ludus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Matthew Bourne,
Robert Görl,
Aswad,
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.