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 Egypt and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Holger Czukay 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 Letta Mbulu to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jeff Lynne,
Franke,
Newcleus,
Eurythmics,
Mark Hollis,
Quantec,
The Doobie Brothers,
Shoche,
Altered Images,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jawbox,
Johnny Clarke,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Happenings,
Fat Boys,
Moby Grape,
Scion,
The Gladiators,
The Gap Band,
the Germs,
Skriet,
Angry Samoans,
The Associates,
Sight & Sound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Stiv Bators,
Boredoms,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Arthur Verocai,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Procol Harum,
a-ha,
Ronnie Foster,
Fear,
Henry Cow,
Eve St. Jones,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Archie Shepp,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Severed Heads,
Ituana,
The Detroit Cobras,
Basic Channel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Derrick Morgan,
Los Fastidios,
Pulsallama,
Mandrill,
Theoretical Girls,
Sister Nancy,
Black Bananas,
Spoonie Gee,
Banda Bassotti,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
Ornette Coleman,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.