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 Tajikistan and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Can,
Jeru the Damaja,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Donald Byrd,
Maleditus Sound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Subhumans,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Saints,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Moon,
Ludus,
Bobby Sherman,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Womack,
Bluetip,
Kaleidoscope,
Piero Umiliani,
Moebius,
Amon Düül II,
Nico,
Yellowson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sight & Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bang On A Can,
Robert Görl,
Marvin Gaye,
Rosa Yemen,
The Kinks,
ABC,
Morten Harket,
Pagans,
Althea and Donna,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deakin,
Dead Boys,
kango's stein massive,
Underground Resistance,
Neu!,
Lyres,
Public Enemy,
Mars,
Stetsasonic,
The Detroit Cobras,
Franke,
Harpers Bizarre,
Newcleus,
Minutemen,
Sex Pistols,
Cluster,
Siglo XX,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.