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 Japan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Throbbing Gristle to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Subhumans,
Ice-T,
The Associates,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jeff Mills,
Bob Dylan,
Todd Rundgren,
Angry Samoans,
Sparks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Judy Mowatt,
The Dirtbombs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bill Near,
Mo-Dettes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nas,
Pussy Galore,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rhythm & Sound,
Drive Like Jehu,
Los Fastidios,
Lalann,
Connie Case,
Desert Stars,
Camouflage,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Halsall,
Suicide,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Gap Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Five Americans,
Fluxion,
Scan 7,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Pus,
Can,
Man Parrish,
The Slackers,
Tres Demented,
Stereo Dub,
Derrick May,
Marine Girls,
Slick Rick,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lou Christie,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Misunderstood,
Boz Scaggs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Organ,
Delon & Dalcan,
Simply Red,
The Dead C,
Rosa Yemen,
The Monochrome Set,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.