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 Australia and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lakeside to the grunge 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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Buzzcocks,
Echospace,
Barbara Tucker,
The Martian,
The Knickerbockers,
Joensuu 1685,
the Germs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Patti Smith,
Crime,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bang On A Can,
Talk Talk,
D'Angelo,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Gories,
Banda Bassotti,
Bauhaus,
June Days,
The Fall,
Drexciya,
Groovy Waters,
Rotary Connection,
Skarface,
Lungfish,
These Immortal Souls,
Sugar Minott,
Interpol,
James White and The Blacks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nils Olav,
AZ,
Skaos,
Nas,
Hoover,
Wasted Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Supertramp,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nick Fraelich,
Main Source,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dawn Penn,
The Trojans,
The Fugs,
Outsiders,
Carl Craig,
Sex Pistols,
Andrew Hill,
Roy Ayers,
Con Funk Shun,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ice-T,
Sixth Finger,
The Pretty Things,
F. McDonald,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Wake,
Susan Cadogan,
John Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.