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 Uzbekistan and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the theremin 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 Marc Almond to the punk 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
The Red Krayola,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang of Four,
Symarip,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Foxx,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Holt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bluetip,
Organ,
Alphaville,
Dave Gahan,
Kenny Larkin,
Sight & Sound,
Livin' Joy,
Michelle Simonal,
The Count Five,
The Gap Band,
Panda Bear,
The Moody Blues,
Pole,
the Sonics,
Todd Terry,
Lyres,
Surgeon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Skriet,
Warren Ellis,
Patti Smith,
The Associates,
Mad Mike,
48th St. Collective,
Scrapy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Absolute Body Control,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dual Sessions,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Neon Judgement,
Suburban Knight,
Los Fastidios,
The Flesh Eaters,
Banda Bassotti,
Howard Jones,
Nils Olav,
The Misunderstood,
The Monochrome Set,
Bizarre Inc.,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Techniques,
The Moleskins,
Marc Almond,
Television,
The Vogues,
The Selecter,
The Music Machine,
Dawn Penn,
Soulsonic Force,
Japan,
The Dead C,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.