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 Luxembourg and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum 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 Walker Brothers 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joey Negro,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Franke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scrapy,
Subhumans,
MC5,
Dual Sessions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Erykah Badu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Graham Central Station,
Whodini,
Intrusion,
Bobby Sherman,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Leaves,
The Smoke,
The Invisible,
Don Cherry,
Faraquet,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Five Americans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sugar Minott,
Cheater Slicks,
Mr. Review,
Second Layer,
Minnie Riperton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Flipper,
The Raincoats,
Susan Cadogan,
Scan 7,
Sarah Menescal,
Henry Cow,
Derrick Morgan,
The Birthday Party,
the Germs,
World's Most,
Skaos,
Reuben Wilson,
Robert Görl,
Alison Limerick,
Rotary Connection,
Mission of Burma,
The Barracudas,
Grauzone,
L. Decosne,
Arcadia,
The Evens,
Pantytec,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fear,
Sonny Sharrock,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Slick Rick,
New Order,
Yusef Lateef,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.