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 France and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Electric Prunes to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
The Beau Brummels,
Skriet,
Japan,
Avey Tare,
Stereo Dub,
Eric Copeland,
Erykah Badu,
Goldenarms,
Surgeon,
The Mummies,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Yellowson,
Tomorrow,
Pagans,
Sister Nancy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Monolake,
The Fire Engines,
Sun Ra,
Erasure,
Barrington Levy,
Pole,
Index,
The Walker Brothers,
Ronan,
Bobby Byrd,
The Slackers,
Underground Resistance,
Ossler,
The Electric Prunes,
Byron Stingily,
Alice Coltrane,
Gerry Rafferty,
Albert Ayler,
Ultra Naté,
The Sound,
Youth Brigade,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fuzztones,
Sandy B,
Pharoah Sanders,
Radiohead,
Bob Dylan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
MDC,
Eden Ahbez,
Bad Manners,
Kas Product,
Anthony Braxton,
Theoretical Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Rites of Spring,
Freddie Wadling,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aswad,
Peter & Gordon,
June Days,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.