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 Nicaragua and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the techno 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Brothers Johnson,
The J.B.'s,
Oneida,
This Heat,
Guru Guru,
Bluetip,
ABC,
Neu!,
Kas Product,
Robert Görl,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quantec,
The Index,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bauhaus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jacques Brel,
X-101,
Monks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Piero Umiliani,
The Blues Magoos,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bang On A Can,
Desert Stars,
The Dead C,
Carl Craig,
The Beau Brummels,
Marine Girls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Los Fastidios,
DJ Sneak,
Faraquet,
Procol Harum,
Urselle,
Todd Terry,
Nils Olav,
The United States of America,
Franke,
Gastr Del Sol,
Delta 5,
Wolf Eyes,
Stetsasonic,
Mantronix,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
Camberwell Now,
Can,
Robert Hood,
Idris Muhammad,
Livin' Joy,
Amazonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sex Pistols,
Eric Dolphy,
The Cramps,
Lucky Dragons,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.