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 Tanzania and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar 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 Arthur Verocai to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Sonics,
The Real Kids,
The Mojo Men,
Frankie Knuckles,
Man Parrish,
Althea and Donna,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
DJ Sneak,
Television Personalities,
Marc Almond,
China Crisis,
Harry Pussy,
The Dirtbombs,
U.S. Maple,
Joey Negro,
Sam Rivers,
Skriet,
The Gap Band,
Clear Light,
Alton Ellis,
The Associates,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ken Boothe,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Five Americans,
Anthony Braxton,
Johnny Osbourne,
Motorama,
The Walker Brothers,
Severed Heads,
MDC,
Steve Hackett,
E-Dancer,
Porter Ricks,
Basic Channel,
Black Bananas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Junior Murvin,
Angry Samoans,
Johnny Clarke,
Freddie Wadling,
Chrome,
Goldenarms,
Davy DMX,
The Electric Prunes,
The Vogues,
Theoretical Girls,
Hot Snakes,
Country Teasers,
Moss Icon,
The New Christs,
The Names,
The Doors,
Aswad,
Kerrie Biddell,
MC5,
Tubeway Army,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.