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 Dominica and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Michael McDonald 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 Nation of Ulysses to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Arab on Radar,
The Mojo Men,
The Saints,
Joy Division,
Bootsy Collins,
The Five Americans,
Livin' Joy,
Heaven 17,
The Count Five,
Bobby Womack,
Agitation Free,
H. Thieme,
Traffic Nightmare,
Simply Red,
Wasted Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Circle Jerks,
Suicide,
DJ Sneak,
Hot Snakes,
Marvin Gaye,
Ponytail,
World's Most,
Pere Ubu,
Drexciya,
DJ Style,
Visage,
Qualms,
Ice-T,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
Nico,
Girls At Our Best!,
Suburban Knight,
Crash Course in Science,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Half Japanese,
Pantytec,
Radio Birdman,
The Grass Roots,
Q and Not U,
Minny Pops,
Trumans Water,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Reagan Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mark Hollis,
Glenn Branca,
Nirvana,
Rites of Spring,
Black Sheep,
Nas,
Dual Sessions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Intrusion,
Absolute Body Control,
Shuggie Otis,
Brand Nubian,
Pierre Henry,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.