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 Niger and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Holger Czukay 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 Goldenarms 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cowsills,
the Association,
The Toasters,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Underground Resistance,
Zapp,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Smoke,
Motorama,
Pere Ubu,
Skaos,
Youth Brigade,
The Dead C,
The Moleskins,
The Barracudas,
R.M.O.,
Bobby Byrd,
Crash Course in Science,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eve St. Jones,
DNA,
Brick,
Scott Walker,
The Gun Club,
Judy Mowatt,
Robert Hood,
Fugazi,
kango's stein massive,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gastr Del Sol,
AZ,
Moebius,
The Last Poets,
Charles Mingus,
These Immortal Souls,
Make Up,
Blake Baxter,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Slits,
Laurel Aitken,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ornette Coleman,
Siglo XX,
Technova,
The Red Krayola,
Michelle Simonal,
Newcleus,
Amon Düül,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mantronix,
K-Klass,
Jeff Lynne,
Lindisfarne,
The Evens,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pulsallama,
Parry Music,
Scan 7,
Dave Gahan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.