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 Panama and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 cv313 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
D'Angelo,
Duran Duran,
Pere Ubu,
Goldenarms,
The Standells,
Cameo,
Howard Jones,
Smog,
The Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ken Boothe,
Gichy Dan,
Guru Guru,
Pharoah Sanders,
Curtis Mayfield,
Camberwell Now,
The Saints,
Prince Buster,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Arab on Radar,
The Gladiators,
June of 44,
Harry Pussy,
Minny Pops,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ice-T,
the Association,
John Cale,
Sister Nancy,
The Neon Judgement,
cv313,
Siglo XX,
Drexciya,
Joey Negro,
The Red Krayola,
Lucky Dragons,
Gang Green,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jacques Brel,
Excepter,
Erykah Badu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eurythmics,
Los Fastidios,
Cecil Taylor,
Panda Bear,
Ossler,
The Martian,
Lightning Bolt,
Slick Rick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Brothers Johnson,
Oblivians,
Quando Quango,
Brass Construction,
Spandau Ballet,
The Vogues,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.