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 Liechtenstein and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and New York.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe 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 Moby Grape to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Intrusion,
The Move,
Pole,
The Pretty Things,
The Fire Engines,
Cymande,
Robert Görl,
Man Parrish,
Depeche Mode,
The Blackbyrds,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Chrome,
The Litter,
The Searchers,
Soul II Soul,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
The Golliwogs,
Rapeman,
Altered Images,
Porter Ricks,
The Doors,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bauhaus,
Cal Tjader,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nas,
Sound Behaviour,
The Residents,
Flash Fearless,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Steve Hackett,
Albert Ayler,
June of 44,
Barrington Levy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Deepchord,
Negative Approach,
Simply Red,
Arab on Radar,
Scratch Acid,
Agent Orange,
The Fugs,
The Young Rascals,
Yellowson,
Darondo,
Sister Nancy,
Excepter,
Supertramp,
Wire,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang Green,
Alison Limerick,
Black Bananas,
Brothers Johnson,
The Misunderstood,
These Immortal Souls,
Joey Negro,
Jimmy McGriff,
Stiv Bators,
F. McDonald,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.