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 Senegal and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Essential Logic to the disco 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Heaven 17,
Reuben Wilson,
The Golliwogs,
CMW,
Half Japanese,
Al Stewart,
Sexual Harrassment,
T. Rex,
Q65,
Bauhaus,
Todd Rundgren,
The Happenings,
Deadbeat,
Ten City,
Sex Pistols,
Section 25,
F. McDonald,
FM Einheit,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sandy B,
Ralphi Rosario,
Roger Hodgson,
A Certain Ratio,
Gichy Dan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mission of Burma,
China Crisis,
Thee Headcoats,
New York Dolls,
Faraquet,
Sun City Girls,
DJ Sneak,
The Gladiators,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Count Five,
Connie Case,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lindisfarne,
Susan Cadogan,
the Bar-Kays,
The Buckinghams,
Main Source,
Fela Kuti,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Modern Lovers,
The Trojans,
The Victims,
Graham Central Station,
The Velvet Underground,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Make Up,
Nirvana,
Metal Thangz,
New Age Steppers,
June of 44,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rod Modell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.