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 Senegal 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 The Cramps to the funk 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
The Evens,
Fela Kuti,
The Black Dice,
Pylon,
Don Cherry,
The Human League,
Gong,
8 Eyed Spy,
Funky Four + One,
Talk Talk,
Half Japanese,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lyres,
Alice Coltrane,
Mr. Review,
Sixth Finger,
Whodini,
John Foxx,
Barry Ungar,
Angry Samoans,
Wolf Eyes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masters at Work,
Joyce Sims,
Letta Mbulu,
Ponytail,
Nirvana,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fluxion,
The Happenings,
Goldenarms,
Sam Rivers,
Davy DMX,
Cybotron,
The Vogues,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stiv Bators,
Silicon Teens,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Invisible,
The Beau Brummels,
Oneida,
Nik Kershaw,
Gabor Szabo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Soul II Soul,
Scion,
Brothers Johnson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Scratch Acid,
The Techniques,
The Martian,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Kinks,
Charles Mingus,
Radio Birdman,
Pussy Galore,
Bill Near,
Chris Corsano,
OOIOO,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spoonie Gee,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.