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 Hungary and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 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 Angry Samoans to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Pretty Things,
Aaron Thompson,
The Happenings,
Mandrill,
Pantytec,
The Divine Comedy,
the Association,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mantronix,
June of 44,
Duran Duran,
the Normal,
Ponytail,
The Monks,
Minnie Riperton,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pole,
Half Japanese,
Ituana,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeff Lynne,
Rakim,
Camouflage,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Robert Wyatt,
Alison Limerick,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Excepter,
Severed Heads,
The Grass Roots,
Liliput,
Cluster,
Boredoms,
The Slits,
Terrestrial Tones,
Spandau Ballet,
Scratch Acid,
The American Breed,
Lightning Bolt,
The Buckinghams,
Gang Starr,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crooked Eye,
Ice-T,
B.T. Express,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pantaleimon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Suicide,
The Beau Brummels,
Altered Images,
Arthur Verocai,
Davy DMX,
Stetsasonic,
the Germs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.