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 Iraq and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro 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 The Moleskins to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Quadrant,
Rufus Thomas,
Joe Finger,
The Dead C,
Kenny Larkin,
Bush Tetras,
Fatback Band,
The Durutti Column,
Rekid,
The Remains,
Icehouse,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott Heron,
Charles Mingus,
The Misunderstood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nico,
Eve St. Jones,
Bill Wells,
Organ,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Slick Rick,
Robert Hood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Pretty Things,
Marmalade,
Deakin,
Das Ding,
Drexciya,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fugazi,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
Crispy Ambulance,
La Düsseldorf,
Audionom,
Ralphi Rosario,
A Certain Ratio,
Kas Product,
Boredoms,
Albert Ayler,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
New York Dolls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thee Headcoats,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Quando Quango,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Trojans,
Gang Green,
T.S.O.L.,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Delon & Dalcan,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.