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 Venezuela and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Angry Samoans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gories. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Scion,
Bang On A Can,
Fat Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Scan 7,
Rites of Spring,
Magma,
Swans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hot Snakes,
Lindisfarne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Residents,
FM Einheit,
Khruangbin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pagans,
Camberwell Now,
The Associates,
Negative Approach,
Glenn Branca,
Reagan Youth,
Eric Dolphy,
Hashim,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Sherman,
Letta Mbulu,
Warsaw,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gang Green,
The Fall,
The Martian,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Vainqueur,
Nico,
Anthony Braxton,
Icehouse,
Ohio Players,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Susan Cadogan,
Harry Pussy,
Kurtis Blow,
Zapp,
The Invisible,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Moon,
The Seeds,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Grass Roots,
The Blues Magoos,
Aloha Tigers,
John Holt,
Chris & Cosey,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Flag,
the Bar-Kays,
Sex Pistols,
Boogie Down Productions,
Royal Trux,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.