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 Turkey and from Salvador.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Fire Engines to the grime 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Scott Walker,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rapeman,
Minutemen,
Flipper,
The Fall,
Matthew Bourne,
Livin' Joy,
the Normal,
Robert Wyatt,
Blossom Toes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Fortunes,
Amazonics,
Altered Images,
The Cure,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pussy Galore,
Soulsonic Force,
David Bowie,
Anakelly,
Organ,
Deakin,
Robert Hood,
Simply Red,
Unwound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Star Department,
New York Dolls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cramps,
DJ Sneak,
Mark Hollis,
Joe Smooth,
The Wake,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Newcleus,
Bill Near,
Echospace,
F. McDonald,
Bad Manners,
Aural Exciters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Peter and Kerry,
Young Marble Giants,
Al Stewart,
Isaac Hayes,
Tears for Fears,
Nick Fraelich,
Boredoms,
Marine Girls,
Moby Grape,
Glambeats Corp.,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.