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 Marshall Islands and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe 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 Blossom Toes 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Gang Green,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Searchers,
Absolute Body Control,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Todd Terry,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smoke,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nick Fraelich,
Rotary Connection,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Smog,
Rites of Spring,
Kayak,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Swell Maps,
Japan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Whodini,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drexciya,
Maurizio,
A Certain Ratio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tears for Fears,
The Leaves,
Soul II Soul,
Crispy Ambulance,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Monks,
Con Funk Shun,
Hot Snakes,
Cybotron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Coltrane,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Neon Judgement,
The Names,
Slave,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bush Tetras,
Suburban Knight,
The Trojans,
Desert Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Clear Light,
Fatback Band,
Junior Murvin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.