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 France and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Lou Reed 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 punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Black Flag,
The Human League,
Scientists,
Lou Christie,
John Coltrane,
David Axelrod,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Schoolly D,
New York Dolls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ken Boothe,
EPMD,
Donald Byrd,
Unwound,
Jesper Dahlback,
Porter Ricks,
Symarip,
Isaac Hayes,
Scrapy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Moody Blues,
Joensuu 1685,
Swell Maps,
In Retrospect,
Marc Almond,
Ronnie Foster,
Technova,
Zero Boys,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Bar-Kays,
World's Most,
Cheater Slicks,
Bill Near,
D'Angelo,
Scion,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Sheep,
Nation of Ulysses,
Neil Young,
Bobby Sherman,
Althea and Donna,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gang Starr,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Boogie Down Productions,
Groovy Waters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Thee Headcoats,
The Last Poets,
Camouflage,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Moon,
The Motions,
Scan 7,
Spoonie Gee,
Procol Harum,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.