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 Germany and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Harmonia,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ken Boothe,
Thee Headcoats,
David Bowie,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Count Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Porter Ricks,
The Techniques,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
L. Decosne,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lebanon Hanover,
Derrick May,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Eric Copeland,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fall,
Lou Reed,
Slick Rick,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Soft Machine,
Thompson Twins,
Eden Ahbez,
Jesper Dahlback,
Smog,
Bluetip,
Swans,
Grey Daturas,
Hashim,
Delta 5,
Faraquet,
The United States of America,
Laurel Aitken,
Gastr Del Sol,
U.S. Maple,
Nils Olav,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moby Grape,
Kenny Larkin,
Basic Channel,
Con Funk Shun,
Joensuu 1685,
The Divine Comedy,
Public Enemy,
Audionom,
World's Most,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
FM Einheit,
New Age Steppers,
Gichy Dan,
Warren Ellis,
The Dirtbombs,
Lower 48,
The Star Department,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.