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 Rwanda and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 jazz 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sun City Girls,
Scientists,
Mark Hollis,
The Evens,
Steve Hackett,
Dark Day,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Slackers,
Aural Exciters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Vainqueur,
Reagan Youth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The J.B.'s,
Grauzone,
Black Sheep,
Josef K,
The Fuzztones,
The Star Department,
Smog,
Todd Terry,
Pulsallama,
Aaron Thompson,
Carl Craig,
Thee Headcoats,
Buzzcocks,
The United States of America,
Quando Quango,
The Sound,
a-ha,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Patti Smith,
The Martian,
New Age Steppers,
The Knickerbockers,
Fad Gadget,
The Fire Engines,
The Mummies,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Names,
The Monochrome Set,
Godley & Creme,
It's A Beautiful Day,
48th St. Collective,
The Velvet Underground,
Juan Atkins,
Cymande,
Roger Hodgson,
Yazoo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nation of Ulysses,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Vogues,
Scan 7,
KRS-One,
Jacques Brel,
The Gap Band,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.