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 Nepal and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator 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 Slave to the funk 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
The Invisible,
Bronski Beat,
Wasted Youth,
Yaz,
Organ,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Audionom,
Robert Hood,
Pierre Henry,
Section 25,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Dirtbombs,
Warren Ellis,
Tres Demented,
The Monks,
Lower 48,
the Slits,
Althea and Donna,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bill Near,
a-ha,
Heaven 17,
The Happenings,
Tommy Roe,
Deadbeat,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marine Girls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moleskins,
Schoolly D,
Yusef Lateef,
Warsaw,
The Stooges,
Cheater Slicks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dead Boys,
June of 44,
The Last Poets,
Josef K,
Sugar Minott,
Masters at Work,
Talk Talk,
Byron Stingily,
Boredoms,
The Alarm Clocks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fatback Band,
Suicide,
Kurtis Blow,
Eden Ahbez,
June Days,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.