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 Lebanon and from Taipei.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Blossom Toes to the crunk 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Funky Four + One,
Pantytec,
the Sonics,
Lightning Bolt,
Boz Scaggs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Barry Ungar,
Crime,
Ultra Naté,
Isaac Hayes,
The Last Poets,
Al Stewart,
L. Decosne,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rakim,
Nik Kershaw,
Electric Prunes,
The Grass Roots,
Von Mondo,
The Toasters,
Ronnie Foster,
Scratch Acid,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Sherman,
The Beau Brummels,
kango's stein massive,
Wings,
Vladislav Delay,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DJ Sneak,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Flag,
FM Einheit,
Minnie Riperton,
Thee Headcoats,
Sugar Minott,
The Searchers,
The Victims,
Girls At Our Best!,
Los Fastidios,
The Durutti Column,
David Axelrod,
UT,
the Fania All-Stars,
ABC,
Inner City,
KRS-One,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fugazi,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Howard Jones,
Babytalk,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Todd Terry,
Graham Central Station,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mr. Review,
Ronan,
Ultravox,
Alton Ellis,
Qualms,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.