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 Angola and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Real Kids to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Invisible,
Eurythmics,
The Gap Band,
The Smoke,
Soft Machine,
Little Man,
John Cale,
the Sonics,
Mark Hollis,
the Swans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brass Construction,
Babytalk,
U.S. Maple,
Sugar Minott,
Ludus,
New York Dolls,
Radiohead,
Alton Ellis,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Electric Prunes,
Crime,
Michelle Simonal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fatback Band,
Young Marble Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grauzone,
Mad Mike,
Kas Product,
Jacques Brel,
The Associates,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Seeds,
Dual Sessions,
The Shadows of Knight,
Swell Maps,
Theoretical Girls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tres Demented,
Yaz,
Depeche Mode,
Franke,
Quando Quango,
Alison Limerick,
The Wake,
Dorothy Ashby,
Technova,
Suicide,
Robert Wyatt,
Terrestrial Tones,
Deakin,
Subhumans,
Mr. Review,
Funkadelic,
Man Parrish,
MDC,
Mission of Burma,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.