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 Saudi Arabia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 David Bowie 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 Sällskapet to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul Sonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Slave,
Smog,
Heaven 17,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bush Tetras,
Niagra,
Howard Jones,
H. Thieme,
Monks,
Bang On A Can,
Camberwell Now,
Interpol,
The Cowsills,
Eric Copeland,
Symarip,
The Selecter,
Crime,
Toni Rubio,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Judy Mowatt,
Minutemen,
Kerri Chandler,
Anthony Braxton,
Popol Vuh,
Black Moon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Surgeon,
Model 500,
The Offenders,
The Martian,
The Motions,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wolf Eyes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Oneida,
In Retrospect,
The Searchers,
Kenny Larkin,
Erasure,
Graham Central Station,
Joyce Sims,
Visage,
Mo-Dettes,
JFA,
Alton Ellis,
The Tremeloes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Barrington Levy,
Metal Thangz,
Roy Ayers,
Sandy B,
Lyres,
Flipper,
FM Einheit,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Whodini,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.