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 Sierra Leone and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 theremin 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 Jeff Lynne to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Soul II Soul,
Jimmy McGriff,
X-102,
Rotary Connection,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sun Ra,
Royal Trux,
Steve Hackett,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quadrant,
Henry Cow,
Stiv Bators,
Moby Grape,
Neil Young,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hasil Adkins,
Los Fastidios,
Procol Harum,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sarah Menescal,
Khruangbin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Funkadelic,
Rites of Spring,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kerri Chandler,
Fugazi,
Soulsonic Force,
Q65,
JFA,
Sister Nancy,
Malaria!,
The Five Americans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Associates,
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Absolute Body Control,
Bootsy Collins,
Skriet,
Depeche Mode,
Lyres,
Donny Hathaway,
Fat Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
Tubeway Army,
Wire,
ABC,
Audionom,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
Suburban Knight,
Sexual Harrassment,
Radio Birdman,
The Divine Comedy,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.