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 Cape Verde and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
The Techniques,
Average White Band,
Pylon,
Quando Quango,
Sister Nancy,
The Count Five,
The Blackbyrds,
Ultimate Spinach,
One Last Wish,
The Happenings,
Nirvana,
Don Cherry,
Schoolly D,
Glenn Branca,
Animal Collective,
Wolf Eyes,
Marvin Gaye,
Marine Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Panda Bear,
Judy Mowatt,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Kinks,
The Seeds,
Icehouse,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flipper,
Cameo,
Harry Pussy,
Shuggie Otis,
Tim Buckley,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fuzztones,
Tres Demented,
The Toasters,
The Monks,
Yellowson,
Jeff Lynne,
U.S. Maple,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Holt,
Interpol,
Bill Near,
Agitation Free,
Roxy Music,
Rosa Yemen,
Roy Ayers,
Wally Richardson,
Sandy B,
Amon Düül II,
The Motions,
David McCallum,
Lalann,
Peter & Gordon,
Lou Reed,
The Modern Lovers,
the Human League,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.