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 Cyprus and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 David Bowie 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 Gang Green 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Pulsallama,
Boredoms,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Mills,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
cv313,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
The Cramps,
Tears for Fears,
Pagans,
Yazoo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Holt,
Aswad,
Boz Scaggs,
Carl Craig,
Lou Reed,
Youth Brigade,
Bluetip,
Brand Nubian,
The Barracudas,
Visage,
Cheater Slicks,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Trumans Water,
Roxette,
Big Daddy Kane,
Reagan Youth,
The Moody Blues,
The Vogues,
Deakin,
Liliput,
Cal Tjader,
Junior Murvin,
Soft Machine,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mars,
Warsaw,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crash Course in Science,
10cc,
Magma,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Metal Thangz,
Flipper,
Chris Corsano,
Negative Approach,
Y Pants,
Don Cherry,
Colin Newman,
Mo-Dettes,
Pussy Galore,
Au Pairs,
The J.B.'s,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.