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 Malawi and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Neon Judgement to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Lakeside,
Rufus Thomas,
Excepter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sun Ra,
The New Christs,
The Index,
Sixth Finger,
The Durutti Column,
the Germs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
KRS-One,
Robert Wyatt,
Bluetip,
Easy Going,
Country Teasers,
The Move,
Althea and Donna,
Accadde A,
The Star Department,
Cluster,
Danielle Patucci,
June of 44,
The Electric Prunes,
Godley & Creme,
Connie Case,
DJ Sneak,
Throbbing Gristle,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ultra Naté,
Whodini,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
D'Angelo,
Silicon Teens,
Johnny Osbourne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Moon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barbara Tucker,
Judy Mowatt,
The Young Rascals,
Sun City Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scion,
Camouflage,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Victims,
Lightning Bolt,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Outsiders,
Thompson Twins,
Peter and Kerry,
Agent Orange,
Swans,
The Blackbyrds,
Parry Music,
The Gap Band,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.