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 Greece and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Andrew Hill to the electroclash 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Martian,
The Tremeloes,
Toni Rubio,
Alison Limerick,
the Swans,
Carl Craig,
Robert Görl,
The Gun Club,
Saccharine Trust,
Mr. Review,
Cheater Slicks,
Lucky Dragons,
Royal Trux,
Pantytec,
Brothers Johnson,
The Moleskins,
Man Parrish,
Archie Shepp,
Roger Hodgson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eddi Front,
Traffic Nightmare,
Symarip,
ABC,
Q and Not U,
Sandy B,
Whodini,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wally Richardson,
The Smoke,
Heaven 17,
Accadde A,
Peter & Gordon,
The Seeds,
Schoolly D,
the Germs,
Youth Brigade,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Piero Umiliani,
The Human League,
Chris & Cosey,
Rosa Yemen,
Prince Buster,
Vainqueur,
Soul II Soul,
Ludus,
Parry Music,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nick Fraelich,
Jacques Brel,
Circle Jerks,
Interpol,
OOIOO,
Don Cherry,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bobby Womack,
Fad Gadget,
John Coltrane,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.