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 Thailand and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 The Gladiators to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
PIL,
The Buckinghams,
Whodini,
Lucky Dragons,
Eli Mardock,
Dawn Penn,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fear,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arab on Radar,
Gang Starr,
Johnny Osbourne,
Spoonie Gee,
EPMD,
Skaos,
The Gories,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Chris & Cosey,
The Golliwogs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Radiohead,
Funkadelic,
OOIOO,
The Tremeloes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Derrick May,
Circle Jerks,
Pantaleimon,
The Offenders,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nirvana,
Shoche,
Wings,
Stereo Dub,
FM Einheit,
Fad Gadget,
Connie Case,
Angry Samoans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Freddie Wadling,
The Smiths,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
ABBA,
Gang Green,
Goldenarms,
Sixth Finger,
The Real Kids,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Terrestrial Tones,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Slick Rick,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
AZ,
the Soft Cell,
Marine Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.