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 Belarus and from Manchester.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Taipei.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Pussy Galore to the grunge 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
In Retrospect,
Bad Manners,
Cybotron,
Quando Quango,
Mandrill,
Nation of Ulysses,
Minutemen,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantytec,
Spoonie Gee,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Camouflage,
Nirvana,
La Düsseldorf,
PIL,
Bobby Womack,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ralphi Rosario,
Darondo,
Isaac Hayes,
Rotary Connection,
Chris Corsano,
Rapeman,
Johnny Osbourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
Au Pairs,
Fat Boys,
The Monks,
The Gladiators,
The Move,
Blake Baxter,
It's A Beautiful Day,
June Days,
Fela Kuti,
Crime,
Davy DMX,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Swans,
Porter Ricks,
Clear Light,
Ronan,
The Gun Club,
R.M.O.,
Television,
Warren Ellis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New Order,
Magma,
The Evens,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roy Ayers,
Stereo Dub,
The Happenings,
Godley & Creme,
Theoretical Girls,
Derrick Morgan,
New Age Steppers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Junior Murvin,
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.