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 Armenia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ 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 Patti Smith to the funk 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Brick,
Tropical Tobacco,
F. McDonald,
Scrapy,
Ultravox,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Isaac Hayes,
Lakeside,
Ludus,
Amazonics,
Suicide,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Curtis Mayfield,
Chris & Cosey,
Davy DMX,
Blake Baxter,
The Victims,
June Days,
Essential Logic,
Faust,
Barbara Tucker,
Fatback Band,
the Association,
Bush Tetras,
Dave Gahan,
The Barracudas,
Mr. Review,
Easy Going,
Sarah Menescal,
Erykah Badu,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
Swans,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rapeman,
the Normal,
the Human League,
Skaos,
Crispian St. Peters,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
Kerri Chandler,
Kayak,
Tubeway Army,
Mission of Burma,
Livin' Joy,
DNA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Con Funk Shun,
Eurythmics,
Chrome,
Erasure,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Letta Mbulu,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
cv313,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.