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 Estonia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum 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 Pulsallama to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Franke,
The Cure,
Tommy Roe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Evens,
Parry Music,
Brothers Johnson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fatback Band,
Rakim,
Newcleus,
The Durutti Column,
Minny Pops,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cybotron,
The Residents,
a-ha,
Amazonics,
New Order,
Radiohead,
Eden Ahbez,
Zapp,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Barry Ungar,
Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
Scion,
Kaleidoscope,
Intrusion,
The Standells,
Hasil Adkins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mars,
DNA,
John Cale,
Basic Channel,
Davy DMX,
The American Breed,
Amon Düül,
Bang On A Can,
Excepter,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DJ Sneak,
Television,
Wasted Youth,
Technova,
Kurtis Blow,
Buzzcocks,
Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Crime,
The Pop Group,
Brand Nubian,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Moon,
The Zeros,
Aloha Tigers,
U.S. Maple,
Rosa Yemen,
The Gladiators,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.