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 St Lucia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Pus to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Boogie Down Productions,
Scrapy,
Alison Limerick,
The Martian,
Bobbi Humphrey,
World's Most,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
A Certain Ratio,
Funkadelic,
The Smiths,
Marmalade,
Nick Fraelich,
The Gladiators,
The Wake,
Goldenarms,
Faraquet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Michelle Simonal,
Pierre Henry,
Toni Rubio,
Robert Wyatt,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Theoretical Girls,
Cheater Slicks,
Magma,
James White and The Blacks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobby Sherman,
Alphaville,
Yazoo,
Bob Dylan,
X-101,
Sam Rivers,
The Black Dice,
Johnny Osbourne,
Motorama,
The Litter,
The Fugs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Grandmaster Flash,
48th St. Collective,
Echospace,
Skarface,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Blues Magoos,
Animal Collective,
Eric Dolphy,
Mars,
Bobby Byrd,
Scientists,
Jerry's Kids,
Crash Course in Science,
Spandau Ballet,
Patti Smith,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gun Club,
Sonic Youth,
Lou Christie,
Au Pairs,
The J.B.'s,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.