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 Malaysia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 arpeggiator 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 Los Fastidios to the rock 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
The Gories,
Fear,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wolf Eyes,
The Count Five,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soft Machine,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aloha Tigers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Associates,
Fugazi,
Isaac Hayes,
Danielle Patucci,
Urselle,
The New Christs,
Surgeon,
Kurtis Blow,
Swans,
Colin Newman,
Swell Maps,
Barry Ungar,
Magma,
Bobby Womack,
Lakeside,
Alison Limerick,
The Gap Band,
The Star Department,
ABC,
Con Funk Shun,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
X-Ray Spex,
Wally Richardson,
Jacob Miller,
Mark Hollis,
The Names,
Technova,
FM Einheit,
The Knickerbockers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roxette,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Zapp,
Idris Muhammad,
John Lydon,
Interpol,
Nation of Ulysses,
John Holt,
Schoolly D,
Chris & Cosey,
Agent Orange,
The Residents,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joensuu 1685,
Todd Terry,
X-101,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.