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 Congo and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 MC5 to the grunge 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
The Index,
Saccharine Trust,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Raincoats,
The Names,
Fat Boys,
John Holt,
Marvin Gaye,
Bronski Beat,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magazine,
Joe Smooth,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Country Teasers,
Sight & Sound,
The Cure,
Danielle Patucci,
Letta Mbulu,
DJ Sneak,
Tears for Fears,
The Knickerbockers,
Thee Headcoats,
Gong,
A Certain Ratio,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mr. Review,
Yusef Lateef,
Das Ding,
Crooked Eye,
Ohio Players,
Bobby Womack,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
New York Dolls,
Minnie Riperton,
The Associates,
Morten Harket,
Harry Pussy,
EPMD,
Bluetip,
The Stooges,
Blancmange,
Slick Rick,
Talk Talk,
Jeff Lynne,
Jacob Miller,
In Retrospect,
Amazonics,
The Human League,
Young Marble Giants,
Erasure,
X-Ray Spex,
Angry Samoans,
Dennis Brown,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Au Pairs,
Mars,
Soft Machine,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Infiniti,
Amon Düül,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.