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 Qatar and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Portland and Houston.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Gregory Isaacs to the dance 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skaos,
Livin' Joy,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Qualms,
Mandrill,
The Cramps,
Smog,
Soulsonic Force,
The Black Dice,
The Kinks,
Pole,
Graham Central Station,
Sex Pistols,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rod Modell,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick May,
Audionom,
Wire,
Lalann,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Martian,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Doors,
Dawn Penn,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oblivians,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
a-ha,
Pylon,
Henry Cow,
Ronnie Foster,
B.T. Express,
Porter Ricks,
Television Personalities,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jandek,
Bobby Womack,
H. Thieme,
Panda Bear,
Vainqueur,
The Gories,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ice-T,
Carl Craig,
Maleditus Sound,
The Seeds,
The Searchers,
Grauzone,
Suburban Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
Warsaw,
Fatback Band,
Roy Ayers,
Q65,
The J.B.'s,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.