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 Macedonia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Offenders to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Agitation Free,
Symarip,
F. McDonald,
Bobby Sherman,
Eric B and Rakim,
Iggy Pop,
Smog,
Fear,
Robert Görl,
Boredoms,
Panda Bear,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Yaz,
Minnie Riperton,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wasted Youth,
Section 25,
Jerry's Kids,
Rites of Spring,
Harry Pussy,
The Stooges,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ponytail,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ossler,
The Martian,
Nirvana,
Boz Scaggs,
The Zeros,
Junior Murvin,
Depeche Mode,
The New Christs,
Flamin' Groovies,
Y Pants,
Ken Boothe,
Barbara Tucker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Selecter,
Eric Dolphy,
June Days,
Crispian St. Peters,
Half Japanese,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Franke,
The J.B.'s,
New Age Steppers,
Tears for Fears,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pole,
Pulsallama,
Davy DMX,
The Barracudas,
The Skatalites,
Stiv Bators,
Erykah Badu,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.