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 Lesotho and from Cairo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar 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 New York Dolls to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
the Slits,
Inner City,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fortunes,
Nico,
Bizarre Inc.,
Animal Collective,
The Monochrome Set,
Tropical Tobacco,
Soft Machine,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Iggy Pop,
London Community Gospel Choir,
X-102,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Alphaville,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quadrant,
Loose Ends,
Terrestrial Tones,
MC5,
Scan 7,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fugazi,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang of Four,
The Fuzztones,
the Human League,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Pretty Things,
Deakin,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Knickerbockers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grey Daturas,
Boz Scaggs,
Adolescents,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aaron Thompson,
Connie Case,
Joensuu 1685,
Porter Ricks,
Erykah Badu,
cv313,
The Five Americans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mo-Dettes,
Mad Mike,
Lyres,
Half Japanese,
The Residents,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bang On A Can,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.