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 Iran and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 spring reverb 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 Fugazi to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
R.M.O.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pylon,
Gichy Dan,
kango's stein massive,
JFA,
Rekid,
Tres Demented,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Johnny Osbourne,
Stiv Bators,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smoke,
The Slackers,
The Fortunes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Human League,
Gang Green,
Sister Nancy,
LL Cool J,
X-Ray Spex,
The Raincoats,
Crooked Eye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soulsonic Force,
The Fugs,
Colin Newman,
Funkadelic,
Unwound,
B.T. Express,
Slick Rick,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Second Layer,
Aural Exciters,
The Cure,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cybotron,
Tubeway Army,
The J.B.'s,
A Flock of Seagulls,
David Bowie,
Roy Ayers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Motorama,
Section 25,
Morten Harket,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cal Tjader,
Nik Kershaw,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Womack,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nick Fraelich,
Derrick May,
Jesper Dahlback,
Royal Trux,
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.