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 Uganda and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Angry Samoans to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Lyres,
Soul II Soul,
Neu!,
Lakeside,
Dual Sessions,
Vladislav Delay,
Michelle Simonal,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mr. Review,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Dawn Penn,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scratch Acid,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Toasters,
Monks,
The Golliwogs,
Excepter,
The Litter,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Stiv Bators,
Anthony Braxton,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aswad,
The Moody Blues,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kenny Larkin,
Ossler,
Joyce Sims,
June of 44,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Real Kids,
Eric Copeland,
Boz Scaggs,
Visage,
Kaleidoscope,
Isaac Hayes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crooked Eye,
The Red Krayola,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chris Corsano,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Slave,
Bobby Byrd,
Slick Rick,
Mad Mike,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Metal Thangz,
The Misunderstood,
Pussy Galore,
Gang of Four,
The Zeros,
Amon Düül,
Absolute Body Control,
Charles Mingus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.