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 Burkina and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin 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 Rosa Yemen to the rock 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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Patti Smith,
Wally Richardson,
Eric Copeland,
Roxy Music,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Moss Icon,
Basic Channel,
Motorama,
the Sonics,
Supertramp,
Deadbeat,
Eddi Front,
Depeche Mode,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispian St. Peters,
La Düsseldorf,
Barbara Tucker,
The Smiths,
Adolescents,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Intrusion,
Bobby Byrd,
June Days,
Minny Pops,
Chris & Cosey,
Bauhaus,
Dawn Penn,
Das Ding,
Bronski Beat,
The Move,
Hoover,
Eli Mardock,
Roxette,
Infiniti,
Sixth Finger,
Can,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Spoonie Gee,
Interpol,
Nico,
Theoretical Girls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Amazonics,
Deakin,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terry Callier,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
X-Ray Spex,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Suicide,
Barry Ungar,
MDC,
Y Pants,
EPMD,
Flipper,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Misunderstood,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.