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 Lebanon and from London.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 K-Klass to the grime 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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Excepter,
Malaria!,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
Grey Daturas,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Alison Limerick,
Chris & Cosey,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
EPMD,
This Heat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Pus,
The Litter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Heaven 17,
Bill Near,
Jerry's Kids,
the Slits,
T. Rex,
Hardrive,
The Velvet Underground,
Harpers Bizarre,
Susan Cadogan,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pussy Galore,
UT,
Hashim,
The Names,
the Swans,
Bad Manners,
Aaron Thompson,
Graham Central Station,
Mo-Dettes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fatback Band,
Rufus Thomas,
The Star Department,
ABC,
Symarip,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rites of Spring,
LL Cool J,
Ronnie Foster,
Janne Schatter,
The Toasters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
OOIOO,
Gabor Szabo,
Tommy Roe,
Ronan,
Crooked Eye,
The Gun Club,
The Remains,
Joyce Sims,
Scrapy,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.