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 Sri Lanka and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. 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 theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
The Star Department,
X-101,
Black Sheep,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Dirtbombs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Thompson Twins,
Max Romeo,
Tom Boy,
Sex Pistols,
The J.B.'s,
Reuben Wilson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Heaven 17,
Roger Hodgson,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Dave Clark Five,
Quantec,
Eve St. Jones,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jimmy McGriff,
Gabor Szabo,
In Retrospect,
Skarface,
Procol Harum,
Pantytec,
Monolake,
Hot Snakes,
The Stooges,
Crash Course in Science,
The Martian,
Iggy Pop,
Fatback Band,
Bob Dylan,
Ultravox,
MC5,
Interpol,
The Sound,
Mo-Dettes,
Henry Cow,
The Black Dice,
Royal Trux,
Man Parrish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cecil Taylor,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rakim,
Sight & Sound,
Clear Light,
Crooked Eye,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sällskapet,
Hardrive,
Y Pants,
These Immortal Souls,
Spoonie Gee,
John Holt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.