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 Congo and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 sitar 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 H. Thieme to the dance 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Skarface,
Desert Stars,
Mo-Dettes,
Brass Construction,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jandek,
The Motions,
Marmalade,
Jeru the Damaja,
Frankie Knuckles,
Negative Approach,
Peter & Gordon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Niagra,
Reagan Youth,
Shuggie Otis,
Barrington Levy,
Theoretical Girls,
The Remains,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aswad,
Hasil Adkins,
Whodini,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cybotron,
Wolf Eyes,
The Litter,
Black Sheep,
Soft Cell,
Babytalk,
The Fall,
Lower 48,
Fela Kuti,
cv313,
Monks,
The Slits,
Hoover,
The Grass Roots,
Lucky Dragons,
This Heat,
The Monks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Surgeon,
Skaos,
Shoche,
The Fugs,
PIL,
Jacques Brel,
Symarip,
Banda Bassotti,
The Mummies,
Altered Images,
The New Christs,
Tom Boy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Howard Jones,
Yusef Lateef,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anakelly,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.