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 Kuwait and from Lagos.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Matthew Bourne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fugs,
Flash Fearless,
Rod Modell,
Slave,
The Busters,
David Bowie,
Excepter,
Faust,
Aloha Tigers,
The Stooges,
Chrome,
Letta Mbulu,
Saccharine Trust,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
the Germs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Warren Ellis,
The Motions,
The Searchers,
Sun City Girls,
The Remains,
Alphaville,
Max Romeo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Altered Images,
Y Pants,
Don Cherry,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hot Snakes,
Rosa Yemen,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Maurizio,
Ronan,
Lalann,
Slick Rick,
Pantytec,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
MC5,
The Last Poets,
Junior Murvin,
Adolescents,
Todd Rundgren,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gichy Dan,
Bush Tetras,
Pole,
Zapp,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
Carl Craig,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Zero Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Mandrill,
The New Christs,
Stetsasonic,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.