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 Ethiopia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
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 mellotron 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neil Young,
Agent Orange,
Basic Channel,
Crispy Ambulance,
Funkadelic,
Simply Red,
Average White Band,
The Fortunes,
The Move,
The Buckinghams,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Max Romeo,
The Human League,
T.S.O.L.,
Quantec,
Josef K,
Arab on Radar,
Alice Coltrane,
Royal Trux,
Gabor Szabo,
Ultra Naté,
Khruangbin,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nils Olav,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scratch Acid,
Aaron Thompson,
Spoonie Gee,
Urselle,
Pantytec,
Eric Copeland,
Pussy Galore,
The Birthday Party,
Das Ding,
Lindisfarne,
The Cowsills,
Soft Machine,
Faust,
Fad Gadget,
Toni Rubio,
FM Einheit,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Main Source,
Vainqueur,
Deakin,
June Days,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jacob Miller,
Yusef Lateef,
Yellowson,
AZ,
Rufus Thomas,
Kas Product,
Television Personalities,
The Techniques,
Country Teasers,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.