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 Nauru and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Selecter to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DNA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Babytalk,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jawbox,
X-101,
Ultravox,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rosa Yemen,
Glenn Branca,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wasted Youth,
Wings,
Ronnie Foster,
The Selecter,
Robert Hood,
Robert Görl,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Half Japanese,
Camouflage,
The Fuzztones,
The Vogues,
Stereo Dub,
Nico,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Anakelly,
Harry Pussy,
R.M.O.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Sonics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobby Sherman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Neil Young,
Joe Finger,
The Five Americans,
a-ha,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Desert Stars,
David McCallum,
The Pop Group,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gap Band,
The New Christs,
Howard Jones,
Stiv Bators,
Audionom,
These Immortal Souls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
PIL,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
48th St. Collective,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nas,
Shoche,
China Crisis,
Smog,
Parry Music,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.