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 Montenegro and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 ABC 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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
The Slits,
the Sonics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Flag,
Judy Mowatt,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Association,
Tom Boy,
The Alarm Clocks,
David Axelrod,
Unwound,
The Searchers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marmalade,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Kinks,
Model 500,
The Fire Engines,
Adolescents,
Andrew Hill,
Porter Ricks,
Donald Byrd,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Womack,
Gang of Four,
Eric Copeland,
Jeff Mills,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nas,
Subhumans,
Yazoo,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Associates,
Tears for Fears,
Q and Not U,
The Fortunes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Hashim,
Amon Düül,
Pussy Galore,
Leonard Cohen,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tomorrow,
Goldenarms,
Danielle Patucci,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cal Tjader,
Davy DMX,
The Fuzztones,
Freddie Wadling,
Lee Hazlewood,
T.S.O.L.,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
Donny Hathaway,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ornette Coleman,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.