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 Palau and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dead Boys to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Warsaw,
Infiniti,
Tres Demented,
Ronnie Foster,
The Offenders,
Boz Scaggs,
Josef K,
Barclay James Harvest,
Davy DMX,
D'Angelo,
Liliput,
Flash Fearless,
The Moody Blues,
Aural Exciters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joensuu 1685,
The Leaves,
The Moleskins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sun City Girls,
the Association,
Cluster,
Maurizio,
Harpers Bizarre,
Laurel Aitken,
Mark Hollis,
cv313,
The Buckinghams,
Quantec,
Rites of Spring,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Fall,
The Human League,
Lindisfarne,
Robert Hood,
Wally Richardson,
Lungfish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Porter Ricks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gang Starr,
The Gun Club,
Peter and Kerry,
Sonny Sharrock,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O.,
Minnie Riperton,
New Age Steppers,
The Vogues,
Interpol,
Black Pus,
Kayak,
The Dave Clark Five,
Faust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Erykah Badu,
the Germs,
Todd Terry,
Suicide,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.