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 Guinea and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 The Techniques to the crunk 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
The Gap Band,
The Misunderstood,
Juan Atkins,
Technova,
Kaleidoscope,
Grauzone,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Absolute Body Control,
Amon Düül,
the Soft Cell,
Lou Reed,
Wolf Eyes,
Newcleus,
The Cure,
Desert Stars,
Albert Ayler,
Davy DMX,
Khruangbin,
Duran Duran,
Jacques Brel,
Dennis Brown,
Kool Moe Dee,
Intrusion,
The Vogues,
Scion,
Erykah Badu,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Zapp,
Steve Hackett,
The Techniques,
Cabaret Voltaire,
In Retrospect,
Rakim,
Rapeman,
Gang of Four,
Grey Daturas,
The J.B.'s,
Girls At Our Best!,
Idris Muhammad,
Nick Fraelich,
Darondo,
Average White Band,
Y Pants,
Procol Harum,
The Cramps,
Sixth Finger,
Suicide,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Wells,
Sam Rivers,
Kerri Chandler,
Agent Orange,
Harry Pussy,
Lindisfarne,
Crash Course in Science,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.