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 Burkina and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 cv313 to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
U.S. Maple,
Loose Ends,
Magma,
Lungfish,
PIL,
The Cowsills,
Youth Brigade,
Scott Walker,
Curtis Mayfield,
Moby Grape,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warsaw,
Boredoms,
Archie Shepp,
Andrew Hill,
Radiopuhelimet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wire,
Sight & Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Hashim,
Spoonie Gee,
Qualms,
The Searchers,
Gang Green,
Excepter,
Swans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ituana,
Dorothy Ashby,
Carl Craig,
Rapeman,
Jawbox,
The Kinks,
The Residents,
Stiv Bators,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Mojo Men,
Severed Heads,
The Wake,
The Move,
Todd Terry,
Chrome,
The Evens,
Black Sheep,
The Selecter,
D'Angelo,
Eve St. Jones,
Hoover,
The Zeros,
Albert Ayler,
Soul II Soul,
Pole,
Section 25,
Siglo XX,
Barclay James Harvest,
Isaac Hayes,
Matthew Halsall,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Quantec,
Derrick Morgan,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.