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 Ethiopia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Ronnie Foster,
Cheater Slicks,
Aswad,
Mad Mike,
Chris & Cosey,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Alphaville,
The Martian,
Charles Mingus,
Monolake,
Can,
Bronski Beat,
Ken Boothe,
Altered Images,
The Pretty Things,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Newcleus,
Andrew Hill,
PIL,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Real Kids,
Freddie Wadling,
Steve Hackett,
Crooked Eye,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kenny Larkin,
The Offenders,
The Litter,
Livin' Joy,
Fela Kuti,
Aaron Thompson,
Grauzone,
Leonard Cohen,
Ludus,
World's Most,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fire Engines,
Mission of Burma,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Skatalites,
The Misunderstood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Flag,
Dead Boys,
Swans,
Mantronix,
the Association,
The Evens,
Hot Snakes,
Susan Cadogan,
Boredoms,
Scion,
Warren Ellis,
Clear Light,
Saccharine Trust,
The Trojans,
Toni Rubio,
Theoretical Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.