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 Venezuela and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Charles Mingus to the rock 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
The Tremeloes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cramps,
Monolake,
Terry Callier,
Bootsy Collins,
Symarip,
X-102,
The Fall,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Womack,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Maurizio,
Warren Ellis,
Gichy Dan,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tom Boy,
Chris & Cosey,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Doors,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crime,
Roxy Music,
Ralphi Rosario,
June Days,
Terrestrial Tones,
Davy DMX,
Fugazi,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fad Gadget,
Barrington Levy,
Andrew Hill,
Gang of Four,
Sonic Youth,
JFA,
Wally Richardson,
Todd Terry,
Eli Mardock,
Gregory Isaacs,
Smog,
Talk Talk,
LL Cool J,
Traffic Nightmare,
Niagra,
Marvin Gaye,
Rekid,
Kas Product,
Max Romeo,
The Evens,
John Lydon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cowsills,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lightning Bolt,
The Real Kids,
F. McDonald,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bauhaus,
Charles Mingus,
Zero Boys,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.