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 Malawi and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Brothers Johnson to the dance 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Archie Shepp,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minnie Riperton,
Mary Jane Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eve St. Jones,
Skarface,
X-Ray Spex,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bush Tetras,
The Gladiators,
Reagan Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fear,
Livin' Joy,
Bad Manners,
The Slits,
the Swans,
The Moody Blues,
Radiohead,
Pet Shop Boys,
David Bowie,
Colin Newman,
Minutemen,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Warren Ellis,
June Days,
Cameo,
Heaven 17,
The Count Five,
Oblivians,
Loose Ends,
Royal Trux,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Echospace,
Flash Fearless,
ABC,
The Mummies,
Wolf Eyes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mars,
Marc Almond,
Josef K,
Stiv Bators,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Barry Ungar,
the Association,
The Sound,
Japan,
Tres Demented,
Rufus Thomas,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Names,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.