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 Kazakhstan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Saints to the electroclash 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Laurel Aitken,
In Retrospect,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeff Mills,
Isaac Hayes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bad Manners,
Magma,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Bar-Kays,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boz Scaggs,
Soft Machine,
Lucky Dragons,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Silicon Teens,
The Smoke,
Little Man,
Arcadia,
Hashim,
Sonic Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Dead C,
MDC,
Deakin,
Soft Cell,
Bootsy Collins,
Scion,
Y Pants,
Main Source,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joyce Sims,
Reagan Youth,
Swell Maps,
Sandy B,
The Toasters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Spandau Ballet,
DNA,
The Knickerbockers,
Mantronix,
Siglo XX,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Arab on Radar,
Robert Görl,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultravox,
Rod Modell,
The Count Five,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Leaves,
The Stooges,
Television,
The Zeros,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.