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 Botswana and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Residents to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Cecil Taylor,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gap Band,
the Germs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sister Nancy,
Marine Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mo-Dettes,
DJ Sneak,
Spandau Ballet,
Amazonics,
Arcadia,
The Blackbyrds,
Carl Craig,
Donny Hathaway,
Ituana,
Eve St. Jones,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roxette,
Con Funk Shun,
Blossom Toes,
Mr. Review,
Skaos,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Flag,
Buzzcocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Shoche,
Eurythmics,
Aloha Tigers,
Black Pus,
Patti Smith,
Slick Rick,
Jacob Miller,
The Dave Clark Five,
Matthew Halsall,
Wasted Youth,
Deadbeat,
Ludus,
Bad Manners,
Saccharine Trust,
Thompson Twins,
B.T. Express,
Todd Terry,
The Cure,
Neil Young,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pantaleimon,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
The Invisible,
Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
L. Decosne,
Crooked Eye,
The Zeros,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kas Product,
Boredoms,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.