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 Ireland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
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 snare 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 Warren Ellis to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
The Dave Clark Five,
Whodini,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Association,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neil Young,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Mission of Burma,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lightning Bolt,
The Cramps,
Barrington Levy,
Sex Pistols,
Eric Copeland,
Henry Cow,
Drive Like Jehu,
Erasure,
The Grass Roots,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
48th St. Collective,
Q and Not U,
Stiv Bators,
Oneida,
Black Flag,
Absolute Body Control,
Kaleidoscope,
The Smoke,
Bronski Beat,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Standells,
Nik Kershaw,
Dawn Penn,
Y Pants,
Tim Buckley,
Massinfluence,
John Cale,
UT,
Fela Kuti,
The Toasters,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gap Band,
Siglo XX,
Lucky Dragons,
Brand Nubian,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Walker Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
Ossler,
Charles Mingus,
Patti Smith,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Deadbeat,
Slick Rick,
DNA,
Minutemen,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.