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 Papua New Guinea and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Invisible to the rap 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
The Dead C,
Inner City,
Audionom,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Hood,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nik Kershaw,
Sixth Finger,
The Pop Group,
Fat Boys,
Josef K,
Cheater Slicks,
The Offenders,
Ossler,
Fugazi,
Juan Atkins,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Icehouse,
Fluxion,
Saccharine Trust,
Model 500,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Eurythmics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rapeman,
Todd Terry,
Pharoah Sanders,
Q and Not U,
Rites of Spring,
Gang of Four,
The Remains,
Das Ding,
10cc,
Bob Dylan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Buzzcocks,
The Beau Brummels,
The Gladiators,
48th St. Collective,
Cal Tjader,
Moebius,
Minutemen,
Talk Talk,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantytec,
The Move,
The Neon Judgement,
Yaz,
R.M.O.,
Harpers Bizarre,
Average White Band,
The Cramps,
Jacob Miller,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Smoke,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.