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 Mongolia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar 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 The Cure to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brothers Johnson,
Althea and Donna,
Arab on Radar,
48th St. Collective,
The Saints,
The Buckinghams,
Soul II Soul,
Sixth Finger,
Sällskapet,
The Birthday Party,
Silicon Teens,
Sam Rivers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Moebius,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Young Rascals,
Max Romeo,
UT,
The Mummies,
Stereo Dub,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Holt,
John Foxx,
Blancmange,
Simply Red,
Cymande,
Metal Thangz,
Sun City Girls,
Swans,
New York Dolls,
Idris Muhammad,
Dead Boys,
The Doors,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yellowson,
Scan 7,
Animal Collective,
The Moody Blues,
The Pop Group,
In Retrospect,
Masters at Work,
Liliput,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lower 48,
Funky Four + One,
Kurtis Blow,
Johnny Osbourne,
K-Klass,
Marine Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fuzztones,
Marvin Gaye,
Public Enemy,
Kenny Larkin,
Junior Murvin,
Massinfluence,
Q65,
The Divine Comedy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Henry Cow,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.