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 St Lucia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Niagra to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Minutemen,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tomorrow,
Mars,
Nick Fraelich,
Fat Boys,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fuzztones,
the Human League,
Goldenarms,
Howard Jones,
The Beau Brummels,
Flash Fearless,
The Doors,
Trumans Water,
Silicon Teens,
Man Eating Sloth,
Icehouse,
Eli Mardock,
Black Moon,
The Sonics,
Zapp,
Eric Copeland,
Von Mondo,
Fad Gadget,
The Neon Judgement,
Cecil Taylor,
Motorama,
The Raincoats,
the Association,
The Gun Club,
John Lydon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Can,
Slave,
Dead Boys,
The Fire Engines,
One Last Wish,
Lower 48,
Lungfish,
Darondo,
The Dirtbombs,
June Days,
Moss Icon,
Sugar Minott,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Seeds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Davy DMX,
Erykah Badu,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dennis Brown,
Porter Ricks,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
T. Rex,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Iggy Pop,
Swell Maps,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.