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 El Salvador and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Donald Fagen 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 The New Christs to the techno 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Kenny Larkin,
Clear Light,
Subhumans,
Terry Callier,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tim Buckley,
Stetsasonic,
Pierre Henry,
Chrome,
New Age Steppers,
Maurizio,
Scratch Acid,
Brothers Johnson,
Danielle Patucci,
The Divine Comedy,
Cluster,
Josef K,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pylon,
Section 25,
Scion,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Bourne,
Schoolly D,
The Motions,
Juan Atkins,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lindisfarne,
Sister Nancy,
Cymande,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marmalade,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sandy B,
Little Man,
Sugar Minott,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Velvet Underground,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Swans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jeff Lynne,
Al Stewart,
Echospace,
Minor Threat,
MC5,
Grey Daturas,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
These Immortal Souls,
Skaos,
The Litter,
Rufus Thomas,
Carl Craig,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.