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 Ethiopia and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rites of Spring to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Easy Going,
Massinfluence,
The Monks,
Davy DMX,
The Monochrome Set,
The Real Kids,
Bronski Beat,
The Grass Roots,
The Gories,
Maleditus Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scan 7,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mummies,
The Alarm Clocks,
Moby Grape,
The Pop Group,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Main Source,
Funkadelic,
Nas,
Soul II Soul,
Suburban Knight,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dawn Penn,
Das Ding,
Desert Stars,
the Normal,
Drive Like Jehu,
Max Romeo,
Deepchord,
Chrome,
Kas Product,
The Busters,
Stereo Dub,
Charles Mingus,
The Saints,
Lightning Bolt,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Starr,
Girls At Our Best!,
Wire,
Nik Kershaw,
Whodini,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Model 500,
The Happenings,
Juan Atkins,
Pulsallama,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Andrew Hill,
Crime,
the Slits,
Mad Mike,
The Moody Blues,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.