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 Kosovo and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Derrick Morgan to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Rosa Yemen,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faust,
The Slits,
Mo-Dettes,
Byron Stingily,
Carl Craig,
La Düsseldorf,
Funkadelic,
The Cramps,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Yellowson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Index,
Vladislav Delay,
James White and The Blacks,
Rapeman,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Simply Red,
the Soft Cell,
the Swans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
David Axelrod,
Agitation Free,
The Wake,
Black Pus,
Sister Nancy,
Derrick May,
Von Mondo,
Wings,
The Electric Prunes,
the Human League,
The Beau Brummels,
Idris Muhammad,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
ABBA,
Nation of Ulysses,
The J.B.'s,
Black Bananas,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sugar Minott,
Hashim,
Pierre Henry,
FM Einheit,
Severed Heads,
H. Thieme,
Soul II Soul,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Neon Judgement,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
June Days,
Accadde A,
Kerri Chandler,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.