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 France and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 The Associates to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mission of Burma,
John Coltrane,
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry's Kids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Davy DMX,
Laurel Aitken,
Althea and Donna,
Panda Bear,
Moebius,
Reuben Wilson,
The Trojans,
Dennis Brown,
Thee Headcoats,
Heaven 17,
The Vogues,
Surgeon,
Ronnie Foster,
The Victims,
Wings,
Chris Corsano,
Mars,
Absolute Body Control,
A Certain Ratio,
The Star Department,
Brass Construction,
X-101,
Sonic Youth,
The Gun Club,
Parry Music,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eden Ahbez,
The Zeros,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Brand Nubian,
Bobby Byrd,
The Stooges,
Nico,
Yusef Lateef,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Slits,
Peter and Kerry,
DJ Style,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Gladiators,
Subhumans,
Marmalade,
Carl Craig,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Severed Heads,
Colin Newman,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Dave Clark Five,
Todd Rundgren,
Skaos,
This Heat,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.