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 Libya and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Bobbi Humphrey 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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Fatback Band,
Sex Pistols,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Letta Mbulu,
Chrome,
Maleditus Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Deakin,
Buzzcocks,
Harmonia,
Marine Girls,
Steve Hackett,
The Smoke,
Bad Manners,
Monolake,
Black Sheep,
Darondo,
Skarface,
Reuben Wilson,
OOIOO,
Model 500,
Sixth Finger,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ossler,
Deadbeat,
The American Breed,
The Leaves,
Yellowson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crispian St. Peters,
Idris Muhammad,
Section 25,
Intrusion,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Sherman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
cv313,
Robert Görl,
Patti Smith,
Terry Callier,
The Gories,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Robert Hood,
Cluster,
Liliput,
The Beau Brummels,
Visage,
The Toasters,
Siglo XX,
Scrapy,
Smog,
Panda Bear,
The Monks,
John Lydon,
Dual Sessions,
Peter & Gordon,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.