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 Antigua 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eli Mardock to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Joe Finger,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Quadrant,
Angry Samoans,
Youth Brigade,
Leonard Cohen,
The Sonics,
Livin' Joy,
The Electric Prunes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Normal,
Second Layer,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maurizio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blossom Toes,
Derrick May,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sugar Minott,
The United States of America,
Massinfluence,
The Selecter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sam Rivers,
Marc Almond,
Bauhaus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Brass Construction,
Monks,
The Stooges,
Warsaw,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Niagra,
Crooked Eye,
The Dirtbombs,
Hardrive,
Fugazi,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Carl Craig,
Wings,
Flipper,
Wire,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultravox,
Albert Ayler,
Joe Smooth,
Rosa Yemen,
Talk Talk,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Alison Limerick,
Scott Walker,
T.S.O.L.,
Archie Shepp,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Peter & Gordon,
Anthony Braxton,
The Black Dice,
a-ha,
Duran Duran,
Brand Nubian,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.