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 Bolivia and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 guitar 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 Slave to the rap 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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alton Ellis,
Anthony Braxton,
Malaria!,
Sister Nancy,
The Fire Engines,
UT,
Electric Prunes,
Basic Channel,
Mark Hollis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gap Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Sonic Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Los Fastidios,
The Motions,
Peter & Gordon,
The Gladiators,
The Fall,
Thee Headcoats,
Ultra Naté,
Severed Heads,
Joe Finger,
Aswad,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Drexciya,
Tres Demented,
In Retrospect,
Reagan Youth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bluetip,
Franke,
Urselle,
Talk Talk,
Supertramp,
Section 25,
Lakeside,
Roxette,
The Last Poets,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Idris Muhammad,
Barbara Tucker,
Radio Birdman,
Tropical Tobacco,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Guru Guru,
Blake Baxter,
Oblivians,
Funky Four + One,
Skriet,
The Slits,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cramps,
Nirvana,
Oneida,
Ultravox,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
T.S.O.L.,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.