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 Liberia and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lightning Bolt to the rock 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Lyres,
Wolf Eyes,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smoke,
Liliput,
Todd Terry,
Cal Tjader,
Matthew Bourne,
Agent Orange,
Gastr Del Sol,
Y Pants,
Prince Buster,
The Walker Brothers,
James White and The Blacks,
Mo-Dettes,
Amazonics,
Trumans Water,
Davy DMX,
The Moleskins,
Cymande,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Names,
John Lydon,
Newcleus,
The Offenders,
Josef K,
The Gladiators,
Con Funk Shun,
Royal Trux,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cybotron,
Skarface,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Deepchord,
The Associates,
Charles Mingus,
The Victims,
The Last Poets,
Fatback Band,
Letta Mbulu,
The Index,
Brass Construction,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Moody Blues,
PIL,
Mark Hollis,
Derrick Morgan,
Grey Daturas,
T. Rex,
Jesper Dahlback,
Loose Ends,
John Holt,
Franke,
Alice Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.