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 Mauritius and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 Mary Jane Girls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
The Victims,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marshall Jefferson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deakin,
Mad Mike,
Subhumans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Television,
The Cure,
Smog,
Pharoah Sanders,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gun Club,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Offenders,
Flamin' Groovies,
Parry Music,
The Divine Comedy,
David McCallum,
The Invisible,
T. Rex,
Sex Pistols,
Stetsasonic,
Maurizio,
Marine Girls,
Pulsallama,
Underground Resistance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Grass Roots,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Techniques,
Kenny Larkin,
Althea and Donna,
Peter and Kerry,
Nirvana,
Thompson Twins,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sparks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pierre Henry,
Cymande,
Urselle,
Robert Hood,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kerri Chandler,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare,
Reuben Wilson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Normal,
Joey Negro,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Derrick May,
The Happenings,
The Walker Brothers,
The Mojo Men,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.