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 Philippines and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin 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 The Mummies to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Henry Cow,
Kerri Chandler,
Aaron Thompson,
Quando Quango,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lyres,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eurythmics,
Faust,
Drexciya,
John Coltrane,
Derrick Morgan,
Carl Craig,
Pussy Galore,
Sex Pistols,
Frankie Knuckles,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Bananas,
Technova,
Anakelly,
Kenny Larkin,
The Tremeloes,
Thee Headcoats,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Freddie Wadling,
The Associates,
Max Romeo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cure,
B.T. Express,
Terry Callier,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Public Image Ltd.,
EPMD,
John Foxx,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ituana,
the Association,
Reuben Wilson,
Eli Mardock,
Jeff Mills,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Names,
Steve Hackett,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Matthew Bourne,
Ronnie Foster,
Massinfluence,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Altered Images,
Bootsy Collins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Birthday Party,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grey Daturas,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.