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 Nepal and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Taipei.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 MC5 to the funk 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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Whodini,
Nils Olav,
Fluxion,
The Wake,
Spoonie Gee,
Magma,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Popol Vuh,
Technova,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fall,
Jerry's Kids,
Talk Talk,
Dave Gahan,
Von Mondo,
The Moody Blues,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ohio Players,
H. Thieme,
Cybotron,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mr. Review,
David Bowie,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bootsy Collins,
The Grass Roots,
the Normal,
Joyce Sims,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Los Fastidios,
Amon Düül,
London Community Gospel Choir,
10cc,
Deakin,
Stiv Bators,
Bad Manners,
Suicide,
Bronski Beat,
Tubeway Army,
James White and The Blacks,
The Sonics,
Laurel Aitken,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gabor Szabo,
The Neon Judgement,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gang Gang Dance,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lalo Schifrin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flipper,
Gang Starr,
The Evens,
Lou Reed,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.