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 Cameroon and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Reagan Youth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Livin' Joy,
New Order,
John Cale,
Sixth Finger,
Surgeon,
Angry Samoans,
Mr. Review,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fall,
Jandek,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra,
Tears for Fears,
Public Enemy,
Jeru the Damaja,
La Düsseldorf,
Mars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eurythmics,
The Buckinghams,
The Alarm Clocks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ken Boothe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Basic Channel,
Sun City Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Second Layer,
Radiopuhelimet,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gong,
David Axelrod,
Black Bananas,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Monochrome Set,
Matthew Bourne,
Suburban Knight,
The Smiths,
The Misunderstood,
The Human League,
The Tremeloes,
The Associates,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Barrington Levy,
The Last Poets,
Fat Boys,
Tommy Roe,
R.M.O.,
Gregory Isaacs,
June Days,
the Slits,
One Last Wish,
New Age Steppers,
OOIOO,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kayak,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.