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 Panama and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 Aural Exciters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
Mark Hollis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Flipper,
Angry Samoans,
Susan Cadogan,
Marmalade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wings,
The Electric Prunes,
Adolescents,
David Bowie,
Schoolly D,
Eric Dolphy,
Parry Music,
La Düsseldorf,
Desert Stars,
New York Dolls,
Jerry's Kids,
Rakim,
The Motions,
ABBA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Doors,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Hutcherson,
One Last Wish,
JFA,
Nick Fraelich,
the Sonics,
Alphaville,
The Names,
Ultra Naté,
Gang of Four,
Marshall Jefferson,
Porter Ricks,
The Moody Blues,
Ornette Coleman,
Sight & Sound,
The Mummies,
Fela Kuti,
Neil Young,
Subhumans,
Anthony Braxton,
the Fania All-Stars,
LL Cool J,
The Busters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Smoke,
The Barracudas,
The Gladiators,
The Monochrome Set,
Marc Almond,
Al Stewart,
B.T. Express,
Barbara Tucker,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.