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 Ireland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the crunk 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Soul II Soul,
Junior Murvin,
Nirvana,
Youth Brigade,
The Standells,
Procol Harum,
Charles Mingus,
Crime,
The Offenders,
CMW,
Y Pants,
Alice Coltrane,
The Smoke,
Josef K,
Frankie Knuckles,
Agitation Free,
Hot Snakes,
the Slits,
Dawn Penn,
The Neon Judgement,
The Tremeloes,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gun Club,
Electric Prunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Toni Rubio,
Rekid,
Adolescents,
Yazoo,
Aloha Tigers,
Lakeside,
Wasted Youth,
Althea and Donna,
the Human League,
Moby Grape,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang of Four,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minutemen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Icehouse,
The Blues Magoos,
KRS-One,
The Grass Roots,
Scrapy,
The Cure,
Quadrant,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
David Bowie,
Arab on Radar,
Organ,
Scott Walker,
Spoonie Gee,
Depeche Mode,
The Blackbyrds,
Boogie Down Productions,
ABBA,
Ohio Players,
The Birthday Party,
Mandrill,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.