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 Gabon 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Ice-T to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
The Grass Roots,
The Red Krayola,
Metal Thangz,
Max Romeo,
Bluetip,
Deadbeat,
The Smoke,
Barrington Levy,
Flash Fearless,
Nirvana,
Amazonics,
The Walker Brothers,
Kaleidoscope,
Pet Shop Boys,
Neu!,
Unwound,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
Sun City Girls,
Procol Harum,
48th St. Collective,
Ultimate Spinach,
Desert Stars,
Das Ding,
Ralphi Rosario,
Todd Rundgren,
Jacob Miller,
Marmalade,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funkadelic,
The Slits,
Gang Starr,
X-Ray Spex,
Morten Harket,
Mandrill,
Eric Copeland,
Brass Construction,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Martian,
Barbara Tucker,
Franke,
Porter Ricks,
Peter and Kerry,
Soulsonic Force,
Gabor Szabo,
Roxy Music,
Visage,
Cluster,
Arcadia,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joe Smooth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Negative Approach,
ABBA,
T. Rex,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.