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 Papua New Guinea and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Jacob Miller to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
James White and The Blacks,
The Last Poets,
Kas Product,
The Sonics,
Public Enemy,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Young Rascals,
Cal Tjader,
Godley & Creme,
Sällskapet,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roger Hodgson,
Stetsasonic,
Eric Dolphy,
The Offenders,
R.M.O.,
PIL,
Soul II Soul,
The Blackbyrds,
Can,
Mr. Review,
Siglo XX,
Juan Atkins,
Quando Quango,
Junior Murvin,
Colin Newman,
Laurel Aitken,
Donald Byrd,
Quadrant,
Derrick Morgan,
Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Zeros,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scientists,
Charles Mingus,
Girls At Our Best!,
June Days,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Victims,
Slave,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Shoche,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Subhumans,
Suburban Knight,
Morten Harket,
Parry Music,
LL Cool J,
Faust,
Barry Ungar,
Hoover,
Accadde A,
Hot Snakes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Fela Kuti,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kenny Larkin,
Infiniti,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
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.