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 Grenada and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 snare 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 Pussy Galore to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Crime,
Joe Finger,
Wire,
Harry Pussy,
The Golliwogs,
Danielle Patucci,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Junior Murvin,
Arthur Verocai,
Reuben Wilson,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Red Krayola,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stetsasonic,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pantytec,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
New Order,
The Pretty Things,
Public Image Ltd.,
X-101,
The Kinks,
Q and Not U,
Moebius,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pagans,
Dead Boys,
The Martian,
Rod Modell,
Crooked Eye,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anakelly,
Mars,
Trumans Water,
Jandek,
Bobby Womack,
Deadbeat,
Depeche Mode,
Glenn Branca,
Davy DMX,
Bronski Beat,
The Young Rascals,
Cheater Slicks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Patti Smith,
The Velvet Underground,
Yazoo,
Young Marble Giants,
Sugar Minott,
Freddie Wadling,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Popol Vuh,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mad Mike,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Bar-Kays,
New Age Steppers,
Faraquet,
CMW,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.