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 Jamaica and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and New York.
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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Cramps to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
The Buckinghams,
Joey Negro,
Funkadelic,
John Holt,
Silicon Teens,
Japan,
The Neon Judgement,
Connie Case,
World's Most,
The Kinks,
Suburban Knight,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Martian,
Thompson Twins,
Average White Band,
Morten Harket,
Main Source,
Porter Ricks,
The Count Five,
New York Dolls,
Boz Scaggs,
B.T. Express,
Talk Talk,
10cc,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joe Finger,
Joe Smooth,
Todd Rundgren,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
X-102,
Lou Christie,
The Cramps,
Gil Scott Heron,
Arab on Radar,
Essential Logic,
Inner City,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gong,
Bobby Womack,
Make Up,
Amon Düül,
Rakim,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Durutti Column,
Sound Behaviour,
Amazonics,
Faust,
The Litter,
A Certain Ratio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Prince Buster,
Von Mondo,
the Soft Cell,
Oneida,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.