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 Gabon and from Spokane.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Hashim to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Smoke,
Todd Rundgren,
Piero Umiliani,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moby Grape,
The Dirtbombs,
Vainqueur,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Sonics,
This Heat,
Gang of Four,
The American Breed,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Robert Görl,
T. Rex,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Avey Tare,
Sister Nancy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Flag,
The Skatalites,
Jawbox,
June of 44,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
The Angels of Light,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hoover,
Marvin Gaye,
Junior Murvin,
Sex Pistols,
Pere Ubu,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Yazoo,
Smog,
Dead Boys,
Jeff Mills,
Derrick Morgan,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Flesh Eaters,
DNA,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Sherman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Agent Orange,
The Walker Brothers,
Wings,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Swans,
E-Dancer,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
Roy Ayers,
The Cure,
Unrelated Segments,
John Holt,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.