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 Tanzania and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier 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?
Crispian St. Peters,
Mantronix,
Aloha Tigers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dennis Brown,
Youth Brigade,
Tubeway Army,
Joensuu 1685,
Dead Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Carl Craig,
the Swans,
Alton Ellis,
Ituana,
The Durutti Column,
Terrestrial Tones,
Angry Samoans,
Anthony Braxton,
D'Angelo,
Mandrill,
Wolf Eyes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
John Holt,
Half Japanese,
Ornette Coleman,
John Cale,
The Slackers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Star Department,
LL Cool J,
Amon Düül,
Easy Going,
Rosa Yemen,
Brass Construction,
E-Dancer,
Ten City,
Pantaleimon,
Intrusion,
JFA,
Mars,
Roy Ayers,
John Lydon,
Fad Gadget,
David Bowie,
Theoretical Girls,
Warsaw,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Donald Byrd,
The Dirtbombs,
Dawn Penn,
Skarface,
Neu!,
Heaven 17,
Marcia Griffiths,
T. Rex,
La Düsseldorf,
Fat Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Young Rascals,
Swell Maps,
The Fall,
The Pop Group,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.