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 Cameroon and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Blues Magoos to the techno 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Desert Stars,
Crooked Eye,
Deadbeat,
Lyres,
Ponytail,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mo-Dettes,
the Germs,
Soul II Soul,
Erasure,
David McCallum,
H. Thieme,
The Cramps,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kayak,
Altered Images,
Joy Division,
The New Christs,
Ken Boothe,
DNA,
Brick,
Jeru the Damaja,
Iggy Pop,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pussy Galore,
Suicide,
The Dead C,
The Red Krayola,
Rufus Thomas,
The Saints,
Fat Boys,
One Last Wish,
Banda Bassotti,
The Five Americans,
Rites of Spring,
Drive Like Jehu,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Adolescents,
Patti Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
The Slits,
Roxette,
Aaron Thompson,
Drexciya,
Bauhaus,
Magazine,
Swans,
Robert Wyatt,
Scratch Acid,
Unrelated Segments,
The Electric Prunes,
The J.B.'s,
Lebanon Hanover,
Roxy Music,
The Cure,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pole,
Grauzone,
Alison Limerick,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.