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 Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator 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 Duran Duran to the electroclash 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Black Moon,
Television Personalities,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zero Boys,
Little Man,
Soul Sonic Force,
Moby Grape,
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
Whodini,
Eve St. Jones,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Be Bop Deluxe,
ABC,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roger Hodgson,
June Days,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gun Club,
Max Romeo,
The J.B.'s,
Byron Stingily,
DJ Sneak,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Barracudas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joyce Sims,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kayak,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Easy Going,
Dawn Penn,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Mills,
Derrick May,
The Golliwogs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Simply Red,
David Axelrod,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aloha Tigers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
New Order,
Country Teasers,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Normal,
Neu!,
Moss Icon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Blake Baxter,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.