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 Slovakia and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Walker Brothers to the disco 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
The Leaves,
Fugazi,
Harry Pussy,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Blackbyrds,
Accadde A,
F. McDonald,
Roger Hodgson,
Trumans Water,
Derrick Morgan,
Monolake,
Reuben Wilson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
48th St. Collective,
Jeff Lynne,
The Smoke,
Chris & Cosey,
Lightning Bolt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Royal Trux,
Symarip,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dead C,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DJ Style,
Gabor Szabo,
Y Pants,
Yaz,
The Golliwogs,
Nico,
The Beau Brummels,
Marc Almond,
Tommy Roe,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Electric Prunes,
Ituana,
Tom Boy,
Aaron Thompson,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Television,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brothers Johnson,
Massinfluence,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Moody Blues,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gichy Dan,
The Victims,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Real Kids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Siglo XX,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.