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 Micronesia and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Newcleus to the grunge 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Electric Prunes,
In Retrospect,
Idris Muhammad,
Circle Jerks,
B.T. Express,
Arab on Radar,
Flash Fearless,
Joyce Sims,
Cecil Taylor,
The Remains,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
Terry Callier,
Barbara Tucker,
Interpol,
Procol Harum,
Eric Copeland,
Model 500,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Sex Pistols,
Suicide,
Theoretical Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Fat Boys,
Ice-T,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joe Finger,
Angry Samoans,
Zapp,
Curtis Mayfield,
Accadde A,
Second Layer,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Flamin' Groovies,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Monks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ornette Coleman,
Unwound,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Warsaw,
Brass Construction,
Man Parrish,
Sandy B,
Agent Orange,
The Saints,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kerrie Biddell,
ABC,
Gang of Four,
The Golliwogs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joy Division,
The Cowsills,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roxy Music,
John Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
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.