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 Nepal and from Tehran.
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 Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Black Dice to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Sugar Minott,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aswad,
The Slackers,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Sherman,
Magma,
Wasted Youth,
The Music Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
Joe Finger,
Liliput,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jacob Miller,
Lightning Bolt,
Josef K,
Mark Hollis,
Skaos,
Thee Headcoats,
Kerri Chandler,
Minny Pops,
Easy Going,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lower 48,
Ultravox,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Toasters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nico,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
The Kinks,
Radio Birdman,
Davy DMX,
Country Teasers,
Con Funk Shun,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Blossom Toes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
T.S.O.L.,
Steve Hackett,
DJ Style,
Fela Kuti,
The Young Rascals,
The Count Five,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Womack,
Wally Richardson,
Half Japanese,
Audionom,
Brick,
Youth Brigade,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Electric Prunes,
Scion,
Surgeon,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.