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 Qatar and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
The J.B.'s,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Wake,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fall,
the Association,
The Birthday Party,
Spandau Ballet,
AZ,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soft Cell,
Slave,
Flash Fearless,
48th St. Collective,
Rod Modell,
Crooked Eye,
KRS-One,
Pierre Henry,
Joe Finger,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dennis Brown,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Red Krayola,
Neil Young,
Zapp,
The Mummies,
Lakeside,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Theoretical Girls,
Wings,
The Five Americans,
The Zeros,
Bluetip,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gap Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Tremeloes,
Kas Product,
Ossler,
The Knickerbockers,
FM Einheit,
The Young Rascals,
Motorama,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Alison Limerick,
Wally Richardson,
Chris & Cosey,
The Smiths,
the Swans,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Hood,
Bobby Womack,
The Pop Group,
John Foxx,
Japan,
Smog,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
Metal Thangz,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.