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 Gabon and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
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 arpeggiator 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 X-Ray Spex to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
Alison Limerick,
Crispian St. Peters,
Patti Smith,
The Fortunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Standells,
Davy DMX,
The Knickerbockers,
Wolf Eyes,
Matthew Bourne,
Mark Hollis,
Au Pairs,
K-Klass,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Almond,
Nation of Ulysses,
T.S.O.L.,
Average White Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marmalade,
The Toasters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
June Days,
Hoover,
Lou Reed,
Scott Walker,
Roxy Music,
Q65,
Isaac Hayes,
The Slackers,
John Lydon,
Severed Heads,
The Music Machine,
The Pop Group,
Qualms,
Monks,
Blancmange,
The Offenders,
Cymande,
Angry Samoans,
Terry Callier,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lightning Bolt,
Magma,
Howard Jones,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sugar Minott,
Wings,
PIL,
Magazine,
Archie Shepp,
the Bar-Kays,
Harpers Bizarre,
The United States of America,
The Searchers,
Lakeside,
The Sound,
L. Decosne,
The New Christs,
Joey Negro,
Japan,
The Fugs,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.