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 Canada and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tehran.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Darondo to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marshall Jefferson,
Can,
Erykah Badu,
Max Romeo,
Organ,
Avey Tare,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Black Sheep,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bootsy Collins,
Susan Cadogan,
Mr. Review,
D'Angelo,
Black Flag,
Eli Mardock,
B.T. Express,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Procol Harum,
Fifty Foot Hose,
CMW,
Patti Smith,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Monks,
Howard Jones,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gap Band,
Grey Daturas,
Scratch Acid,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lower 48,
UT,
Andrew Hill,
The Busters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pet Shop Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yusef Lateef,
Motorama,
AZ,
The Fuzztones,
The Gun Club,
Johnny Clarke,
Faraquet,
Roxy Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fall,
Tubeway Army,
Gang Green,
Pierre Henry,
Rekid,
Robert Hood,
Mission of Burma,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Byron Stingily,
Neil Young,
Flipper,
Black Bananas,
Metal Thangz,
Althea and Donna,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.