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 Cambodia and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ 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 Fire Engines to the punk 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Chris & Cosey,
The Barracudas,
Jacques Brel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Judy Mowatt,
H. Thieme,
Idris Muhammad,
The Mummies,
Skaos,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Motorama,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sound Behaviour,
The Wake,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eve St. Jones,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rites of Spring,
AZ,
Amon Düül,
The Music Machine,
Rod Modell,
Suicide,
Wings,
Cybotron,
In Retrospect,
The Saints,
The Monochrome Set,
Organ,
Faust,
Sam Rivers,
Y Pants,
Little Man,
Crash Course in Science,
Make Up,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Traffic Nightmare,
Main Source,
The Toasters,
Derrick Morgan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Youth Brigade,
Soft Cell,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Offenders,
Guru Guru,
The Gladiators,
Pole,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
Jawbox,
Fear,
The Cramps,
Roxette,
Henry Cow,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Circle Jerks,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.