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 Belgium and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Man Eating Sloth to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
Jawbox,
Audionom,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ossler,
Grey Daturas,
Peter & Gordon,
Severed Heads,
One Last Wish,
the Bar-Kays,
Lungfish,
Deepchord,
Eric B and Rakim,
Q65,
PIL,
Morten Harket,
Essential Logic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
48th St. Collective,
The Fire Engines,
Aloha Tigers,
Blancmange,
Funkadelic,
The Human League,
U.S. Maple,
Pole,
Ornette Coleman,
Cal Tjader,
Byron Stingily,
Juan Atkins,
Tropical Tobacco,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kerri Chandler,
Johnny Clarke,
Laurel Aitken,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Blues Magoos,
Dead Boys,
The Smiths,
The Angels of Light,
Whodini,
the Germs,
Aswad,
Sight & Sound,
Henry Cow,
The Gap Band,
Gang Starr,
Rosa Yemen,
The Motions,
Connie Case,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Roxy Music,
Masters at Work,
Bootsy Collins,
F. McDonald,
Colin Newman,
Oblivians,
Banda Bassotti,
Trumans Water,
Iggy Pop,
Barclay James Harvest,
Skriet,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.