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 Namibia and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fela Kuti to the grunge 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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Electric Prunes,
Gang of Four,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Holt,
Sex Pistols,
June Days,
Kool Moe Dee,
FM Einheit,
The Young Rascals,
Wally Richardson,
Dark Day,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Popol Vuh,
The Detroit Cobras,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Divine Comedy,
Ronan,
Reuben Wilson,
The Red Krayola,
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Hood,
Grey Daturas,
Lalann,
The Star Department,
Eurythmics,
Funkadelic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barrington Levy,
Depeche Mode,
Barry Ungar,
R.M.O.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brick,
Maleditus Sound,
Skriet,
Quando Quango,
Nirvana,
Jeff Mills,
Arab on Radar,
The Five Americans,
Lucky Dragons,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Fatback Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
June of 44,
Robert Görl,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Human League,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
ABC,
Nico,
Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
T. Rex,
Basic Channel,
Matthew Halsall,
Country Teasers,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.