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 Sierra Leone and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Tomorrow to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Pus,
Roxette,
The Human League,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Leaves,
Little Man,
Faust,
Babytalk,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Colin Newman,
Sonny Sharrock,
Michelle Simonal,
Silicon Teens,
The Shadows of Knight,
Zapp,
Excepter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eli Mardock,
EPMD,
Joy Division,
Unwound,
The American Breed,
Ken Boothe,
Albert Ayler,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Massinfluence,
Fatback Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Barry Ungar,
Mark Hollis,
Echospace,
Malaria!,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Chris & Cosey,
Lindisfarne,
Lakeside,
The Techniques,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Pretty Things,
Camberwell Now,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sex Pistols,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Funkadelic,
Deadbeat,
Gong,
John Lydon,
The Blackbyrds,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Index,
Public Enemy,
Amazonics,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Magma,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.