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 Chad and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 OOIOO to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cure,
Reagan Youth,
Agent Orange,
New Order,
The Vogues,
Oblivians,
The Leaves,
Idris Muhammad,
David Bowie,
Porter Ricks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Sheep,
Essential Logic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alison Limerick,
Rekid,
Intrusion,
The Divine Comedy,
ABBA,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Count Five,
Kaleidoscope,
The Music Machine,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Stereo Dub,
ABC,
Das Ding,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Human League,
Y Pants,
Mad Mike,
Rufus Thomas,
The Angels of Light,
Hasil Adkins,
Monolake,
Bronski Beat,
T. Rex,
Prince Buster,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
China Crisis,
The Residents,
Ultimate Spinach,
Monks,
Soft Machine,
Blake Baxter,
Barbara Tucker,
Johnny Clarke,
Theoretical Girls,
Neil Young,
Rosa Yemen,
Scrapy,
Urselle,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
One Last Wish,
KRS-One,
Wasted Youth,
Joy Division,
Dawn Penn,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.