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 Vietnam and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Donald Fagen 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 United States of America to the crunk 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
The Litter,
AZ,
Bluetip,
Jesper Dahlback,
Junior Murvin,
Jawbox,
The Tremeloes,
The Golliwogs,
Chris & Cosey,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Star Department,
Gang Green,
John Coltrane,
Scan 7,
Donald Byrd,
Ice-T,
R.M.O.,
Scion,
Max Romeo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
New Age Steppers,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Starr,
Excepter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Yusef Lateef,
Lungfish,
Lakeside,
Alphaville,
Arcadia,
Erasure,
Colin Newman,
Swans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The New Christs,
Sugar Minott,
Minnie Riperton,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Albert Ayler,
Harry Pussy,
Masters at Work,
Crash Course in Science,
U.S. Maple,
The Fortunes,
Tears for Fears,
Intrusion,
Robert Görl,
Alice Coltrane,
Das Ding,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rhythm & Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tommy Roe,
kango's stein massive,
Peter and Kerry,
H. Thieme,
Pagans,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.