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 Gabon and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe 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 Kurtis Blow to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Smog,
The Grass Roots,
The Gladiators,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül II,
Ohio Players,
Sparks,
Slick Rick,
Crispy Ambulance,
Au Pairs,
Tommy Roe,
Babytalk,
Index,
Soul II Soul,
Make Up,
The Wake,
Eurythmics,
New Order,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lou Christie,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Saints,
Half Japanese,
Stetsasonic,
Parry Music,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Depeche Mode,
10cc,
Radiohead,
Roxy Music,
Underground Resistance,
Fatback Band,
The Fall,
Connie Case,
Minutemen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nik Kershaw,
Terry Callier,
F. McDonald,
Guru Guru,
Cluster,
Outsiders,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ituana,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Lydon,
Radio Birdman,
The Gun Club,
Yusef Lateef,
Ralphi Rosario,
UT,
Cecil Taylor,
Jeru the Damaja,
Section 25,
Sixth Finger,
Robert Görl,
Intrusion,
The Zeros,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.