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 Bahamas and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 güiro 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 Smog to the crunk 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Thompson Twins,
Intrusion,
The Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric Dolphy,
Funkadelic,
the Bar-Kays,
Crooked Eye,
Pere Ubu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Warsaw,
Marc Almond,
Althea and Donna,
Sugar Minott,
Drive Like Jehu,
Todd Rundgren,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Audionom,
Babytalk,
Bronski Beat,
Television Personalities,
Bill Near,
the Swans,
Fear,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sixth Finger,
Gerry Rafferty,
Suburban Knight,
Funky Four + One,
Sun Ra,
Cluster,
Eddi Front,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roger Hodgson,
David Bowie,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gang Green,
Bad Manners,
MDC,
Suicide,
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter & Gordon,
Aural Exciters,
Rekid,
U.S. Maple,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stetsasonic,
Deakin,
Freddie Wadling,
Sound Behaviour,
Steve Hackett,
The Doors,
Gang Gang Dance,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joensuu 1685,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Moss Icon,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-Ray Spex,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.