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 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Iggy Pop to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tres Demented,
Johnny Osbourne,
Schoolly D,
Lalann,
One Last Wish,
KRS-One,
Talk Talk,
The Monochrome Set,
Gang Green,
Unrelated Segments,
the Germs,
Country Teasers,
The United States of America,
Hasil Adkins,
Intrusion,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joy Division,
Black Moon,
T. Rex,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tears for Fears,
Camouflage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Remains,
Crispian St. Peters,
Animal Collective,
Television,
The Gories,
Television Personalities,
Theoretical Girls,
Neil Young,
Loose Ends,
Depeche Mode,
Malaria!,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yellowson,
World's Most,
Roger Hodgson,
John Foxx,
Alison Limerick,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Derrick Morgan,
Eli Mardock,
Stockholm Monsters,
Moby Grape,
Deepchord,
kango's stein massive,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Icehouse,
The Evens,
Susan Cadogan,
Brick,
Graham Central Station,
Joe Finger,
Lou Reed,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Steve Hackett,
Gerry Rafferty,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.