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 Swaziland and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Amon Düül to the grime 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
the Germs,
The Tremeloes,
Siglo XX,
Ornette Coleman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gun Club,
The Blues Magoos,
Stockholm Monsters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eve St. Jones,
Chrome,
Crooked Eye,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rufus Thomas,
Adolescents,
Lebanon Hanover,
Junior Murvin,
Sarah Menescal,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fugazi,
Arthur Verocai,
Harry Pussy,
Funkadelic,
Eric Dolphy,
The Stooges,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
ABC,
Loose Ends,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marvin Gaye,
John Foxx,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ituana,
The Offenders,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rod Modell,
Drexciya,
Vainqueur,
Arab on Radar,
Audionom,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hoover,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David McCallum,
In Retrospect,
Marine Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Shoche,
Arcadia,
Crash Course in Science,
Tubeway Army,
Bob Dylan,
Juan Atkins,
Scion,
Iggy Pop,
Sandy B,
The J.B.'s,
Kayak,
Monolake,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.