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 Israel and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro 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 The American Breed to the jazz 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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
the Germs,
Wasted Youth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aaron Thompson,
The Sonics,
The Busters,
The Barracudas,
The Invisible,
Interpol,
New York Dolls,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fire Engines,
Yazoo,
Altered Images,
Brick,
The Red Krayola,
Sound Behaviour,
The Toasters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Grass Roots,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Masters at Work,
The Birthday Party,
Eddi Front,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Motions,
June of 44,
Faust,
The Walker Brothers,
Outsiders,
Skriet,
The Move,
Marmalade,
Hot Snakes,
Heaven 17,
OOIOO,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Moody Blues,
Althea and Donna,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Shoche,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Knickerbockers,
Fatback Band,
Niagra,
The Cowsills,
Howard Jones,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deakin,
Panda Bear,
Visage,
Neil Young,
Lindisfarne,
The Victims,
Das Ding,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.