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 Botswana and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Dennis Brown to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Moon. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Scientists,
Judy Mowatt,
Rosa Yemen,
Maleditus Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
Mad Mike,
B.T. Express,
Sun City Girls,
Fela Kuti,
The Neon Judgement,
Reuben Wilson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ludus,
Camouflage,
Guru Guru,
Matthew Halsall,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jacques Brel,
Y Pants,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Harry Pussy,
Spandau Ballet,
Grauzone,
Black Pus,
The Gap Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Brass Construction,
Sonic Youth,
Franke,
Wolf Eyes,
Soft Machine,
Scion,
The Velvet Underground,
Thompson Twins,
Lalann,
Nick Fraelich,
The Motions,
Desert Stars,
Sight & Sound,
The Five Americans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cluster,
Ken Boothe,
Pulsallama,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
Organ,
Metal Thangz,
Letta Mbulu,
Carl Craig,
Steve Hackett,
Oneida,
48th St. Collective,
Inner City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Underground Resistance,
Cymande,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Todd Terry,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.