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 Egypt and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare 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 Q65 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Janne Schatter,
The Music Machine,
Royal Trux,
Aural Exciters,
Make Up,
Big Daddy Kane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Monochrome Set,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Skatalites,
R.M.O.,
Matthew Halsall,
Barry Ungar,
Deakin,
a-ha,
Public Enemy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Yazoo,
The Sonics,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kayak,
Minnie Riperton,
Pagans,
Ken Boothe,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DNA,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sparks,
Kurtis Blow,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eddi Front,
The Count Five,
Hoover,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bill Wells,
The Cramps,
Television Personalities,
Eden Ahbez,
Idris Muhammad,
Funky Four + One,
Kas Product,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lyres,
Dawn Penn,
Arcadia,
Maurizio,
Minor Threat,
Interpol,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marmalade,
Infiniti,
The Happenings,
Scott Walker,
Sarah Menescal,
Unwound,
Drive Like Jehu,
One Last Wish,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.