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 United Kingdom and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Country Teasers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Morten Harket,
Unrelated Segments,
Essential Logic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Henry Cow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
The Wake,
Severed Heads,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joensuu 1685,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yusef Lateef,
Leonard Cohen,
Lou Reed,
Sex Pistols,
The Motions,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sällskapet,
Marine Girls,
The Stooges,
Scan 7,
Black Pus,
Skaos,
Outsiders,
T. Rex,
Colin Newman,
ABC,
Scrapy,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
Pole,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tomorrow,
Supertramp,
The Moody Blues,
Joy Division,
Soft Cell,
Make Up,
Nation of Ulysses,
B.T. Express,
Nas,
Circle Jerks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Can,
The Slackers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lalann,
Angry Samoans,
The Pop Group,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sonic Youth,
The Fugs,
Electric Prunes,
Basic Channel,
Monks,
The Blackbyrds,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.