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 Belarus and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Moleskins to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Liliput,
Simply Red,
Ultimate Spinach,
Das Ding,
Technova,
Trumans Water,
Smog,
The Modern Lovers,
The Slits,
Grey Daturas,
Duran Duran,
Altered Images,
Television Personalities,
Sight & Sound,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ken Boothe,
Infiniti,
Agent Orange,
Ice-T,
Erykah Badu,
The Vogues,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Stooges,
Bizarre Inc.,
Q65,
Dawn Penn,
Harpers Bizarre,
China Crisis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kool Moe Dee,
ABBA,
The Kinks,
Agitation Free,
Godley & Creme,
The Seeds,
Bronski Beat,
Hasil Adkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mantronix,
Andrew Hill,
The Fortunes,
Index,
The Monks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fad Gadget,
Cymande,
Organ,
Robert Wyatt,
Tim Buckley,
Arcadia,
Zapp,
Chris Corsano,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
These Immortal Souls,
Roger Hodgson,
Amazonics,
Chrome,
Flipper,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.