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 Paraguay and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mantronix 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Royal Trux,
Robert Hood,
The Zeros,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Motorama,
48th St. Collective,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lalann,
PIL,
Electric Prunes,
Television Personalities,
Scratch Acid,
Oneida,
Suicide,
Dual Sessions,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soft Machine,
U.S. Maple,
Sonny Sharrock,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Letta Mbulu,
Schoolly D,
The Barracudas,
Ultra Naté,
Inner City,
Bauhaus,
Public Enemy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Deakin,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Avey Tare,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Colin Newman,
Cybotron,
Pylon,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
June of 44,
Joy Division,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cal Tjader,
Matthew Halsall,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Vogues,
John Foxx,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Standells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Youth Brigade,
Oblivians,
Kas Product,
The Slits,
Von Mondo,
Suburban Knight,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.