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 Solomon Islands and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
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 guitar 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 The Angels of Light to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
Bush Tetras,
Erykah Badu,
The Count Five,
Bootsy Collins,
Stereo Dub,
Ossler,
Patti Smith,
Kas Product,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Sherman,
Average White Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tears for Fears,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Donny Hathaway,
Massinfluence,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Godley & Creme,
The New Christs,
48th St. Collective,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Neil Young,
Terry Callier,
The Martian,
Ice-T,
Faust,
Howard Jones,
Black Flag,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Deepchord,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Lynne,
The Electric Prunes,
The Walker Brothers,
The United States of America,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Q65,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Q and Not U,
The Gun Club,
Nirvana,
Aswad,
Cal Tjader,
Rhythm & Sound,
Metal Thangz,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Mojo Men,
Fad Gadget,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Modern Lovers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kurtis Blow,
Prince Buster,
Henry Cow,
Juan Atkins,
T. Rex,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.