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 Latvia and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Stockholm Monsters to the punk 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Con Funk Shun,
Pussy Galore,
Bluetip,
the Normal,
Bill Near,
Joe Smooth,
Model 500,
The Kinks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Chrome,
Freddie Wadling,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joy Division,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Skatalites,
Jacques Brel,
Janne Schatter,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bob Dylan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Young Rascals,
Minnie Riperton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dawn Penn,
Mark Hollis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cluster,
Heaven 17,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ituana,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fuzztones,
Avey Tare,
Robert Görl,
Sam Rivers,
Rhythm & Sound,
DJ Sneak,
X-Ray Spex,
ABBA,
Mo-Dettes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Black Bananas,
Junior Murvin,
Connie Case,
Qualms,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed,
Skriet,
The Busters,
Sällskapet,
Sun City Girls,
Outsiders,
Index,
Parry Music,
Organ,
Brand Nubian,
the Bar-Kays,
The Moleskins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra.
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.