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 Tuvalu and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum 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 The Trojans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
The Golliwogs,
Motorama,
Bronski Beat,
Massinfluence,
Deepchord,
Harpers Bizarre,
Los Fastidios,
Lungfish,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Cell,
Vainqueur,
The New Christs,
The Last Poets,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Halsall,
Bob Dylan,
The Cramps,
Terry Callier,
John Cale,
Blancmange,
The Birthday Party,
Harry Pussy,
Black Pus,
Radiohead,
The Residents,
The Vogues,
Man Parrish,
Nico,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eddi Front,
Model 500,
Amazonics,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
David Bowie,
Scan 7,
Alison Limerick,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Womack,
Albert Ayler,
John Holt,
Malaria!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
John Lydon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sam Rivers,
KRS-One,
Moby Grape,
the Germs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Make Up,
Oneida,
LL Cool J,
Bizarre Inc.,
X-Ray Spex,
In Retrospect,
ABC,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.