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 San Marino and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Royal Trux to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 United States of America,
Wolf Eyes,
Infiniti,
Whodini,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Zero Boys,
Aloha Tigers,
Pylon,
F. McDonald,
ABC,
DNA,
Fugazi,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nils Olav,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Television,
Toni Rubio,
Judy Mowatt,
Nas,
The Blackbyrds,
Tom Boy,
Nico,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Vogues,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Litter,
This Heat,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Masters at Work,
The Fortunes,
Sound Behaviour,
Archie Shepp,
Pere Ubu,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Bananas,
Hot Snakes,
The Blues Magoos,
The Beau Brummels,
Scion,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Slackers,
Soulsonic Force,
Cybotron,
Livin' Joy,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultra Naté,
The Mummies,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vladislav Delay,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Moody Blues,
New Age Steppers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Donny Hathaway,
The American Breed,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Germs,
Mission of Burma,
The Grass Roots,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.