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 Malaysia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Connie Case 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Nils Olav,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
D'Angelo,
The Angels of Light,
Kurtis Blow,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Pop Group,
The Index,
The Slackers,
Das Ding,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Velvet Underground,
The Walker Brothers,
Young Marble Giants,
Bronski Beat,
The Busters,
Marc Almond,
The Smiths,
Rosa Yemen,
Y Pants,
Crash Course in Science,
New York Dolls,
Soft Machine,
Mr. Review,
Johnny Osbourne,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Skarface,
Monks,
Black Moon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Make Up,
The Tremeloes,
The Fuzztones,
LL Cool J,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Maleditus Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Bob Dylan,
Spoonie Gee,
Pet Shop Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Selecter,
Metal Thangz,
Ronnie Foster,
Grauzone,
Ultimate Spinach,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
X-Ray Spex,
The Knickerbockers,
Yazoo,
Royal Trux,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Basic Channel,
Youth Brigade,
Henry Cow,
Absolute Body Control,
Accadde A,
Eve St. Jones,
A Certain Ratio,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.