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 Niger and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Ten City to the grunge 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
DNA,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
Desert Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Ice-T,
Marc Almond,
Masters at Work,
the Normal,
Prince Buster,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ultravox,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bronski Beat,
Gong,
Skaos,
Newcleus,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Litter,
Lyres,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Supertramp,
The Sonics,
Isaac Hayes,
Cluster,
Grey Daturas,
Heaven 17,
Morten Harket,
Sex Pistols,
Peter & Gordon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Arab on Radar,
Leonard Cohen,
Soul II Soul,
The Mojo Men,
Joe Smooth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nick Fraelich,
Sixth Finger,
Skriet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Zero Boys,
JFA,
Roger Hodgson,
Deakin,
David Bowie,
The American Breed,
Lakeside,
Model 500,
Ludus,
Matthew Bourne,
Junior Murvin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Black Dice,
the Slits,
Aural Exciters,
Godley & Creme,
Fad Gadget,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.