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 Rwanda and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer 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 Spoonie Gee to the crunk 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Slave,
Warsaw,
X-101,
Carl Craig,
Parry Music,
Interpol,
Eric Dolphy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Technova,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Make Up,
Black Pus,
Y Pants,
Cluster,
Monks,
The Moody Blues,
The Martian,
Bootsy Collins,
Sun City Girls,
Chris Corsano,
L. Decosne,
48th St. Collective,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
June Days,
Nick Fraelich,
Dead Boys,
Rites of Spring,
Maleditus Sound,
Ponytail,
Prince Buster,
The Associates,
B.T. Express,
The Toasters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Moby Grape,
Harry Pussy,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gun Club,
Bobby Byrd,
Magma,
UT,
Black Sheep,
Hasil Adkins,
Tropical Tobacco,
Funkadelic,
Gabor Szabo,
The Offenders,
Underground Resistance,
Erykah Badu,
Von Mondo,
The Index,
Outsiders,
Kool Moe Dee,
Goldenarms,
Radiohead,
Brick,
James White and The Blacks,
The Move,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.