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 El Salvador and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ultra Naté to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Adolescents,
The Zeros,
Chrome,
Scratch Acid,
Symarip,
Visage,
Urselle,
Easy Going,
Tropical Tobacco,
Prince Buster,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aaron Thompson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The J.B.'s,
the Soft Cell,
Brick,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Invisible,
Franke,
The Searchers,
Cecil Taylor,
Terry Callier,
MC5,
Swans,
Reuben Wilson,
Massinfluence,
A Certain Ratio,
Youth Brigade,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Monks,
The Evens,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Remains,
One Last Wish,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Shoche,
Iggy Pop,
Pole,
Morten Harket,
kango's stein massive,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Human League,
Cameo,
X-101,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Matthew Bourne,
Boz Scaggs,
Skarface,
Jacob Miller,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lower 48,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skriet,
Janne Schatter,
Nico,
Minutemen,
Joey Negro,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.