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 Fiji and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Toronto.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mark Hollis to the dance 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Matthew Bourne,
Arab on Radar,
Steve Hackett,
Goldenarms,
B.T. Express,
Curtis Mayfield,
T.S.O.L.,
Lalann,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Terry Callier,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pulsallama,
MDC,
Von Mondo,
New York Dolls,
Mandrill,
Rites of Spring,
The Residents,
Maleditus Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Germs,
Shoche,
Sex Pistols,
Bootsy Collins,
Pole,
The Cure,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Au Pairs,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Real Kids,
Arthur Verocai,
Stiv Bators,
Johnny Osbourne,
Heaven 17,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eve St. Jones,
Barrington Levy,
Robert Hood,
Black Pus,
Archie Shepp,
Bill Wells,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Cowsills,
Q65,
Visage,
Althea and Donna,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ornette Coleman,
UT,
AZ,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ralphi Rosario,
Patti Smith,
James White and The Blacks,
Ken Boothe,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.