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 Malta and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bad Manners to the funk 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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Association,
Organ,
Television,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tom Boy,
the Bar-Kays,
Hot Snakes,
The Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pole,
The Saints,
Gang of Four,
Porter Ricks,
Gong,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nik Kershaw,
The Last Poets,
Angry Samoans,
La Düsseldorf,
Ponytail,
Rhythm & Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
AZ,
Spoonie Gee,
Silicon Teens,
Rosa Yemen,
The Blues Magoos,
Skarface,
KRS-One,
Warren Ellis,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ken Boothe,
U.S. Maple,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Isaac Hayes,
Q65,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Near,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ralphi Rosario,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Busters,
Gang Starr,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Flesh Eaters,
Idris Muhammad,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tomorrow,
Terry Callier,
Peter & Gordon,
The Vogues,
The Blackbyrds,
Iggy Pop,
Sun City Girls,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.