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 Bangladesh and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 clarinet 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the disco 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Young Rascals,
Cheater Slicks,
Alphaville,
Wasted Youth,
Pantytec,
The Victims,
Brick,
Zero Boys,
Rod Modell,
Cymande,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare,
The Standells,
The Flesh Eaters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Boogie Down Productions,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fugs,
Danielle Patucci,
Lou Christie,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stetsasonic,
Pulsallama,
June of 44,
New Age Steppers,
David Axelrod,
the Germs,
Piero Umiliani,
The Remains,
Soft Machine,
Whodini,
Yusef Lateef,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Steve Hackett,
Icehouse,
John Coltrane,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Walker Brothers,
Eric Copeland,
Connie Case,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Spoonie Gee,
Flipper,
Lalann,
Absolute Body Control,
Ralphi Rosario,
Procol Harum,
Eve St. Jones,
Pole,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cal Tjader,
Amon Düül,
PIL,
KRS-One,
Sun City Girls,
Sparks,
Susan Cadogan,
Liliput,
Flash Fearless,
Tomorrow,
Ronan,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.