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 Uruguay and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord 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 Tears for Fears to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Motorama,
Angry Samoans,
Sixth Finger,
Rapeman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Au Pairs,
New Order,
Alison Limerick,
F. McDonald,
Toni Rubio,
Grauzone,
China Crisis,
Steve Hackett,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soft Cell,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bluetip,
Marvin Gaye,
Anthony Braxton,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Heaven 17,
Peter and Kerry,
The Cramps,
X-102,
Simply Red,
The Blues Magoos,
10cc,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Barracudas,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Detroit Cobras,
Arcadia,
Kurtis Blow,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Moss Icon,
June Days,
Barrington Levy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Connie Case,
Goldenarms,
Black Moon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Khruangbin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Technova,
Isaac Hayes,
Lower 48,
Matthew Halsall,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Aaron Thompson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Drive Like Jehu,
Japan,
Cheater Slicks,
Shuggie Otis,
Joy Division,
James White and The Blacks,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.