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 Cape Verde and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Television to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Soul II Soul,
Archie Shepp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Smoke,
Radiohead,
The Cure,
The Skatalites,
La Düsseldorf,
Eli Mardock,
Fluxion,
New Order,
Derrick May,
Dave Gahan,
Parry Music,
The Misunderstood,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cramps,
Dead Boys,
Ludus,
Excepter,
Joe Smooth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barry Ungar,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Busters,
The Vogues,
Camberwell Now,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Sheep,
Gong,
Jacob Miller,
Scion,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pylon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rod Modell,
Delon & Dalcan,
Warren Ellis,
Bauhaus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Eating Sloth,
Michelle Simonal,
Janne Schatter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cameo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Guru Guru,
Matthew Bourne,
The Five Americans,
The Grass Roots,
Chris & Cosey,
Bob Dylan,
Black Moon,
Warsaw,
Oneida,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Toni Rubio,
The Victims,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.