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 Ecuador and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Boredoms to the techno 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Ituana,
ABBA,
The Motions,
LL Cool J,
Ultravox,
Tears for Fears,
U.S. Maple,
Throbbing Gristle,
Agent Orange,
Silicon Teens,
The Gun Club,
The United States of America,
Bobby Byrd,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Johnny Osbourne,
JFA,
Marc Almond,
Sandy B,
The Happenings,
Godley & Creme,
Slave,
Eric Copeland,
The Standells,
The Star Department,
The Seeds,
Donny Hathaway,
B.T. Express,
Wolf Eyes,
The Smoke,
Scion,
Fear,
Pantaleimon,
Hardrive,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nico,
The Doobie Brothers,
Shoche,
The Cowsills,
L. Decosne,
The Smiths,
Sam Rivers,
Organ,
Blake Baxter,
Country Teasers,
Neil Young,
Surgeon,
Junior Murvin,
X-102,
The Pretty Things,
Warsaw,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Parry Music,
These Immortal Souls,
Howard Jones,
Circle Jerks,
Scrapy,
James White and The Blacks,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.