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 Morocco and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Roxette to the jazz 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
the Slits,
Joensuu 1685,
Ralphi Rosario,
Spoonie Gee,
Amazonics,
Aloha Tigers,
The Gun Club,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Lydon,
John Holt,
Ultra Naté,
Rekid,
The Fuzztones,
Procol Harum,
Thee Headcoats,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Junior Murvin,
Fatback Band,
Sister Nancy,
Brass Construction,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Toasters,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Womack,
The Walker Brothers,
Pierre Henry,
Jacques Brel,
Lightning Bolt,
Todd Rundgren,
Q65,
Pere Ubu,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Swell Maps,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
Wire,
The Mummies,
Nas,
L. Decosne,
The Smoke,
Eden Ahbez,
Reuben Wilson,
a-ha,
Mars,
Qualms,
Das Ding,
The Smiths,
Mandrill,
Amon Düül II,
LL Cool J,
The Offenders,
Brothers Johnson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crash Course in Science,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Adolescents,
Reagan Youth,
The Sound,
Barry Ungar,
Alison Limerick,
Gichy Dan,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.