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 Kosovo 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bremen.
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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Doors to the rap 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Malaria!,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Flamin' Groovies,
A Flock of Seagulls,
La Düsseldorf,
Drexciya,
Unwound,
Agent Orange,
Wolf Eyes,
T. Rex,
Marine Girls,
Lou Reed,
Boredoms,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David Axelrod,
The Fortunes,
Ronan,
Loose Ends,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Martian,
Piero Umiliani,
The Durutti Column,
Glenn Branca,
Skaos,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
Hot Snakes,
Cluster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aaron Thompson,
Tubeway Army,
Excepter,
Rapeman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Joey Negro,
Traffic Nightmare,
Warren Ellis,
Quadrant,
Ralphi Rosario,
In Retrospect,
MDC,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The J.B.'s,
Wasted Youth,
Spandau Ballet,
Motorama,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Names,
Chris & Cosey,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dirtbombs,
Quando Quango,
Echospace,
Davy DMX,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.