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 Guyana and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Eric Copeland to the punk 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Moebius,
Stiv Bators,
The Dirtbombs,
The Smoke,
Boogie Down Productions,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott Heron,
Urselle,
Make Up,
Crash Course in Science,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cluster,
Siglo XX,
Mr. Review,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Drexciya,
The Alarm Clocks,
OOIOO,
Ronan,
Vladislav Delay,
Nas,
Can,
Quantec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chris & Cosey,
Josef K,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lindisfarne,
T.S.O.L.,
Toni Rubio,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kaleidoscope,
Shoche,
The Zeros,
Y Pants,
Lou Reed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Todd Rundgren,
Terrestrial Tones,
Derrick May,
Alton Ellis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Brick,
Michelle Simonal,
Dark Day,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Birthday Party,
The Fire Engines,
Electric Prunes,
Ronnie Foster,
Shuggie Otis,
L. Decosne,
Zapp,
Colin Newman,
Jandek,
KRS-One,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.