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 Brazil and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scan 7 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
the Normal,
Ludus,
Harry Pussy,
F. McDonald,
Tears for Fears,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marc Almond,
Thompson Twins,
Derrick Morgan,
Scion,
Morten Harket,
Gabor Szabo,
MDC,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Matthew Halsall,
Roxy Music,
David McCallum,
June of 44,
Avey Tare,
Glenn Branca,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eve St. Jones,
The Last Poets,
The Move,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cymande,
Soft Cell,
Grauzone,
The Dead C,
Laurel Aitken,
The Monochrome Set,
the Slits,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skarface,
This Heat,
Subhumans,
Robert Wyatt,
Joey Negro,
CMW,
Faraquet,
Desert Stars,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Sister Nancy,
Mr. Review,
Gang Starr,
MC5,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Trojans,
The Litter,
Dawn Penn,
Ken Boothe,
Althea and Donna,
Q65,
Youth Brigade,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jacob Miller,
Lalann,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.