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 Ghana and from Madrid.
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 Lyon and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Heaven 17 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stereo Dub,
Rakim,
Gang of Four,
The Cramps,
Fat Boys,
Iggy Pop,
Panda Bear,
Marshall Jefferson,
Robert Wyatt,
Desert Stars,
Quadrant,
Mad Mike,
Faust,
Fad Gadget,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Last Poets,
Lightning Bolt,
The Index,
U.S. Maple,
Skriet,
Joe Smooth,
The Fire Engines,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Leonard Cohen,
Steve Hackett,
Blancmange,
EPMD,
Nico,
Shuggie Otis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soul II Soul,
The Pretty Things,
Skaos,
Susan Cadogan,
the Soft Cell,
Easy Going,
The Cure,
The Fortunes,
Al Stewart,
The Stooges,
Simply Red,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Names,
Boz Scaggs,
The Grass Roots,
Roxy Music,
The Martian,
Gregory Isaacs,
Spandau Ballet,
Kas Product,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Babytalk,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Roxette,
Roger Hodgson,
10cc,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.