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 Japan and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lee Hazlewood to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thompson Twins,
Eddi Front,
Hot Snakes,
Animal Collective,
The Index,
The J.B.'s,
Blake Baxter,
Youth Brigade,
John Holt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amazonics,
Archie Shepp,
John Lydon,
Donald Byrd,
Sight & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Derrick May,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Rekid,
The Cure,
The Fuzztones,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Litter,
Minutemen,
H. Thieme,
Josef K,
Rites of Spring,
Maurizio,
Silicon Teens,
La Düsseldorf,
Soulsonic Force,
Model 500,
Minor Threat,
Fela Kuti,
Traffic Nightmare,
Henry Cow,
The Names,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Mills,
Piero Umiliani,
Scott Walker,
PIL,
Steve Hackett,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Anakelly,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Easy Going,
Skarface,
Kerrie Biddell,
R.M.O.,
Ice-T,
The Trojans,
Eurythmics,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aaron Thompson,
Pussy Galore,
The Kinks,
The Buckinghams,
Howard Jones,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.