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 Kenya and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 guitar 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lungfish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Trojans,
Darondo,
Nils Olav,
Camberwell Now,
Max Romeo,
Rufus Thomas,
Fat Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Oneida,
The Dead C,
Dawn Penn,
Deakin,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pantaleimon,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Barbara Tucker,
John Cale,
Bush Tetras,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nico,
Cameo,
ABBA,
The Martian,
Boz Scaggs,
Rites of Spring,
The Durutti Column,
Tomorrow,
Surgeon,
Gong,
Make Up,
Livin' Joy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Urselle,
Suburban Knight,
The Birthday Party,
Spandau Ballet,
Visage,
Mars,
Faraquet,
Isaac Hayes,
Jeff Mills,
Boogie Down Productions,
Negative Approach,
The Cure,
John Holt,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sound,
Ponytail,
Sonic Youth,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tears for Fears,
The Neon Judgement,
Maleditus Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
This Heat,
LL Cool J,
Throbbing Gristle,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.