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 United Kingdom and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Altered Images,
Buzzcocks,
Sex Pistols,
Avey Tare,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Residents,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brass Construction,
Ten City,
Donny Hathaway,
Sparks,
Shoche,
The Cramps,
Malaria!,
Johnny Clarke,
Chrome,
Bang On A Can,
Spoonie Gee,
Minor Threat,
Lower 48,
Motorama,
Eric B and Rakim,
Monks,
Byron Stingily,
World's Most,
Sarah Menescal,
Eden Ahbez,
Jandek,
These Immortal Souls,
The Wake,
AZ,
Marvin Gaye,
Slave,
Urselle,
Suburban Knight,
The Fuzztones,
Tim Buckley,
Procol Harum,
48th St. Collective,
The Alarm Clocks,
Absolute Body Control,
Eric Copeland,
Amon Düül,
The Martian,
Stetsasonic,
Boredoms,
Sonic Youth,
Dawn Penn,
a-ha,
The Music Machine,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fear,
Pole,
The Evens,
Oneida,
Grauzone,
The Dirtbombs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Camouflage,
Black Pus,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.