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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 The Star Department to the grunge 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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Royal Trux,
Black Sheep,
The Gladiators,
The Slits,
Eli Mardock,
Kenny Larkin,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Cure,
The Residents,
Kaleidoscope,
The Dave Clark Five,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Gang Dance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Star Department,
Thompson Twins,
Television,
Robert Görl,
Nico,
Mad Mike,
Camouflage,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Shoche,
Funkadelic,
The Martian,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Dennis Brown,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Girls At Our Best!,
Interpol,
Hoover,
Dead Boys,
The Leaves,
Pere Ubu,
The Shadows of Knight,
Porter Ricks,
Lucky Dragons,
In Retrospect,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Slits,
These Immortal Souls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sight & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Flipper,
Letta Mbulu,
Ronan,
Byron Stingily,
The American Breed,
Fatback Band,
The Vogues,
Inner City,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sam Rivers,
Kerri Chandler,
Joy Division,
Bluetip,
Henry Cow,
Ossler,
The Dirtbombs,
Fela Kuti,
OOIOO,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.