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 Korea South and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Metal Thangz to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Eric Copeland,
Sun City Girls,
Arab on Radar,
Alphaville,
Gastr Del Sol,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Traffic Nightmare,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Grey Daturas,
Porter Ricks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Litter,
The Gories,
Gil Scott Heron,
Funky Four + One,
The Raincoats,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
B.T. Express,
John Foxx,
Blake Baxter,
Flash Fearless,
Sex Pistols,
Yusef Lateef,
The Remains,
Goldenarms,
The Beau Brummels,
Pere Ubu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Matthew Halsall,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Camouflage,
Archie Shepp,
David McCallum,
Soft Machine,
Soul II Soul,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sister Nancy,
Rod Modell,
Ken Boothe,
Joe Smooth,
Max Romeo,
Darondo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
Man Parrish,
Chris Corsano,
Qualms,
Smog,
Kerri Chandler,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Saints,
Malaria!,
John Lydon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Yaz,
Marc Almond,
L. Decosne,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.