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 Finland and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alison Limerick to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Black Sheep,
Electric Prunes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Young Marble Giants,
Grey Daturas,
Mr. Review,
Joyce Sims,
Barrington Levy,
L. Decosne,
Amazonics,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Dead C,
New Order,
Maleditus Sound,
The Fuzztones,
Funkadelic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lee Hazlewood,
Country Teasers,
The Selecter,
Fatback Band,
New York Dolls,
Sam Rivers,
Moebius,
Gabor Szabo,
Pet Shop Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Five Americans,
Panda Bear,
Robert Görl,
Peter & Gordon,
Pierre Henry,
Magma,
Skarface,
The Walker Brothers,
The Grass Roots,
ABBA,
Motorama,
the Human League,
PIL,
The Mummies,
Donald Byrd,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Trumans Water,
The Black Dice,
Todd Terry,
The Blackbyrds,
The Count Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
Maurizio,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gil Scott Heron,
Duran Duran,
The Divine Comedy,
Minutemen,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Babytalk,
Arab on Radar,
Minnie Riperton,
Fear,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.