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 Mongolia and from Halifax.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Blues Magoos to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Jandek,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Slave,
Nils Olav,
The Motions,
Swell Maps,
Boredoms,
Scrapy,
The Beau Brummels,
Public Enemy,
Black Bananas,
Liliput,
Lee Hazlewood,
Goldenarms,
Porter Ricks,
The Count Five,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Litter,
Sex Pistols,
Gang Green,
June of 44,
Pet Shop Boys,
Albert Ayler,
Jeff Mills,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Monochrome Set,
Freddie Wadling,
R.M.O.,
Roy Ayers,
Ituana,
These Immortal Souls,
Kas Product,
Eli Mardock,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mars,
Groovy Waters,
Thompson Twins,
The Invisible,
The Doors,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gang of Four,
Deakin,
Surgeon,
Big Daddy Kane,
DNA,
Prince Buster,
Marc Almond,
The Buckinghams,
Intrusion,
Gabor Szabo,
Basic Channel,
Sam Rivers,
Electric Prunes,
Carl Craig,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Slackers,
Matthew Bourne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lucky Dragons,
Animal Collective,
Sunsets and Hearts,
New Order,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.