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 Iran and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Inner City to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Nik Kershaw,
Lightning Bolt,
Dead Boys,
June of 44,
Minnie Riperton,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boredoms,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tommy Roe,
The Black Dice,
CMW,
Cameo,
Gichy Dan,
Donny Hathaway,
Suburban Knight,
MDC,
Wings,
Bobby Byrd,
Bauhaus,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Whodini,
Prince Buster,
Oblivians,
John Coltrane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sparks,
E-Dancer,
D'Angelo,
Hot Snakes,
Roxy Music,
Tres Demented,
F. McDonald,
X-101,
Smog,
Juan Atkins,
kango's stein massive,
Excepter,
Bob Dylan,
Ornette Coleman,
Harry Pussy,
Mo-Dettes,
The Smoke,
The Associates,
The Gap Band,
Alphaville,
Los Fastidios,
The Fortunes,
The Doors,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Albert Ayler,
John Cale,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eve St. Jones,
Sandy B,
The Fugs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Dirtbombs,
Silicon Teens,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.