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 Antigua and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Zapp to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Holt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Swans,
The Barracudas,
DNA,
Zapp,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Section 25,
Technova,
10cc,
Sugar Minott,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABC,
Kaleidoscope,
Flash Fearless,
The Golliwogs,
Animal Collective,
The Stooges,
Jawbox,
The Black Dice,
the Human League,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Symarip,
Michelle Simonal,
Crispian St. Peters,
Neil Young,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Birthday Party,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deakin,
Electric Prunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mo-Dettes,
Rufus Thomas,
Scan 7,
Hasil Adkins,
Severed Heads,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Five Americans,
Aural Exciters,
Vainqueur,
Henry Cow,
Faraquet,
Second Layer,
Malaria!,
Roger Hodgson,
Eve St. Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bill Wells,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Television,
Echospace,
Suburban Knight,
Black Sheep,
Darondo,
Junior Murvin,
Dead Boys,
Minny Pops,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.