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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Dorothy Ashby to the punk 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Magazine,
Sonic Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Jeff Lynne,
Anthony Braxton,
The Victims,
Nik Kershaw,
Y Pants,
Flamin' Groovies,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Excepter,
Royal Trux,
The Pop Group,
the Swans,
E-Dancer,
Theoretical Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Angry Samoans,
Pole,
Ice-T,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Holt,
MDC,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Oneida,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deakin,
Lower 48,
Amon Düül II,
Agitation Free,
The Leaves,
Tears for Fears,
In Retrospect,
Blossom Toes,
The Techniques,
Barry Ungar,
Mantronix,
Yellowson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Vainqueur,
The Gladiators,
Robert Hood,
Rosa Yemen,
Skarface,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
One Last Wish,
Marmalade,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Beau Brummels,
Colin Newman,
Trumans Water,
Make Up,
Bluetip,
The Knickerbockers,
Prince Buster,
The Buckinghams,
Buzzcocks,
Moby Grape,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.