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 Uruguay and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
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 David Bowie 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 48th St. Collective to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
The Gap Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Move,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sun City Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Sällskapet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Von Mondo,
Aural Exciters,
The Monks,
Joy Division,
DJ Sneak,
The Toasters,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Saints,
Letta Mbulu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Laurel Aitken,
Peter and Kerry,
The Dead C,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Derrick May,
Oneida,
Hasil Adkins,
Second Layer,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gang Starr,
Barry Ungar,
Model 500,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jeff Mills,
Livin' Joy,
Rakim,
Shuggie Otis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Masters at Work,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Star Department,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bill Near,
Throbbing Gristle,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dual Sessions,
Amon Düül II,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Bad Manners,
Andrew Hill,
Roxy Music,
Warsaw,
Soul II Soul,
Mandrill,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Theoretical Girls,
Crime,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.