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 Bhutan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fugazi to the electroclash 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Black Moon,
Das Ding,
Roy Ayers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rotary Connection,
Ornette Coleman,
The Dead C,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
E-Dancer,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultimate Spinach,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kurtis Blow,
The Standells,
Byron Stingily,
The Knickerbockers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mantronix,
Arab on Radar,
Mr. Review,
Agent Orange,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scott Walker,
The Saints,
Altered Images,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Young Marble Giants,
Marine Girls,
Deadbeat,
Lakeside,
Aswad,
MC5,
La Düsseldorf,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rakim,
Ituana,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Porter Ricks,
The Moody Blues,
Bronski Beat,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arcadia,
Desert Stars,
Stiv Bators,
Thee Headcoats,
Lucky Dragons,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Lydon,
The Fuzztones,
Sex Pistols,
Ultravox,
Minor Threat,
Livin' Joy,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Normal,
Henry Cow,
Sonic Youth,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bill Near,
Angry Samoans,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.