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 Zimbabwe and from Taipei.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kerri Chandler to the grunge 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
KRS-One,
Ten City,
B.T. Express,
Brick,
The Birthday Party,
Dark Day,
Whodini,
Suicide,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Adolescents,
Can,
Ornette Coleman,
Sister Nancy,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Althea and Donna,
Fad Gadget,
the Slits,
Oblivians,
The Blues Magoos,
Robert Görl,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Standells,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Malaria!,
Juan Atkins,
The Smoke,
Frankie Knuckles,
Silicon Teens,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Trumans Water,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Schoolly D,
the Soft Cell,
Reagan Youth,
Bill Near,
Maleditus Sound,
Eurythmics,
Intrusion,
Mission of Burma,
The Zeros,
Minutemen,
Tom Boy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Marshall Jefferson,
DJ Sneak,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bill Wells,
the Association,
David Bowie,
Yusef Lateef,
Rosa Yemen,
Fluxion,
Soft Machine,
Wally Richardson,
Donald Byrd,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.