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 Vanuatu and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Zero Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Erykah Badu,
Dual Sessions,
Funky Four + One,
R.M.O.,
The Doors,
Animal Collective,
Saccharine Trust,
the Soft Cell,
John Foxx,
Crispy Ambulance,
Matthew Bourne,
Gichy Dan,
Darondo,
Warren Ellis,
The Index,
Byron Stingily,
the Germs,
X-Ray Spex,
The Sonics,
Crooked Eye,
Tomorrow,
Soft Machine,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tom Boy,
Brass Construction,
Aloha Tigers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scott Walker,
Lower 48,
David McCallum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Essential Logic,
The Dead C,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
F. McDonald,
Mantronix,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kurtis Blow,
Babytalk,
Iggy Pop,
Marmalade,
James White and The Blacks,
John Holt,
Scrapy,
Archie Shepp,
Sonic Youth,
Motorama,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Alarm Clocks,
Patti Smith,
Desert Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Skaos,
The Moody Blues,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marvin Gaye,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Stooges,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.