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 Azerbaijan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Groovy Waters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Lou Christie,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Motorama,
Excepter,
The Index,
Gong,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Heaven 17,
The Wake,
kango's stein massive,
U.S. Maple,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tubeway Army,
Bob Dylan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Faust,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Moby Grape,
Gang of Four,
Amazonics,
Henry Cow,
Lakeside,
The Dead C,
The Grass Roots,
The Doors,
Model 500,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scratch Acid,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Victims,
Organ,
L. Decosne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
La Düsseldorf,
The Young Rascals,
Don Cherry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Charles Mingus,
Funkadelic,
AZ,
The Busters,
Loose Ends,
Roger Hodgson,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultra Naté,
Grandmaster Flash,
T. Rex,
The Skatalites,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wasted Youth,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.