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 Botswana and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Young Marble Giants to the grime 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Pop Group,
Japan,
Ronnie Foster,
Crime,
Minutemen,
Pantaleimon,
Hasil Adkins,
The Trojans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lower 48,
Neil Young,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tomorrow,
The Electric Prunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pagans,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alton Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
Popol Vuh,
Idris Muhammad,
This Heat,
B.T. Express,
The Offenders,
Alphaville,
Colin Newman,
Marc Almond,
Radio Birdman,
The Velvet Underground,
New Order,
Lou Christie,
Kevin Saunderson,
Desert Stars,
Depeche Mode,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Kinks,
The Young Rascals,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slackers,
The Gun Club,
Lungfish,
UT,
June Days,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Sonics,
The Pretty Things,
Bootsy Collins,
Unrelated Segments,
Stockholm Monsters,
Q and Not U,
Anthony Braxton,
Prince Buster,
Mission of Burma,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jacques Brel,
Alison Limerick,
Excepter,
Rapeman,
Mars,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.