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 Fiji and from Spokane.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the grime 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Deepchord,
Crash Course in Science,
Laurel Aitken,
Lindisfarne,
Kerri Chandler,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Das Ding,
The Cowsills,
The Selecter,
Yellowson,
June Days,
Malaria!,
the Association,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eden Ahbez,
the Slits,
Kool Moe Dee,
Peter & Gordon,
Black Moon,
Desert Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Television,
Arthur Verocai,
The Victims,
Liliput,
Con Funk Shun,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tears for Fears,
World's Most,
The Standells,
DJ Style,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Womack,
Connie Case,
Jacques Brel,
Jerry's Kids,
Minny Pops,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nils Olav,
Bill Wells,
Nas,
Donald Byrd,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Last Poets,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Blancmange,
The Human League,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Surgeon,
Anthony Braxton,
The Beau Brummels,
Sexual Harrassment,
T.S.O.L.,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.