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 El Salvador and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ponytail to the techno 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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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?
The Move,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Symarip,
Franke,
Harpers Bizarre,
KRS-One,
Supertramp,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fall,
Cal Tjader,
The Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
John Foxx,
The Fire Engines,
Intrusion,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bizarre Inc.,
Procol Harum,
F. McDonald,
Ornette Coleman,
Erasure,
Ice-T,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
Audionom,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bauhaus,
The Vogues,
Amazonics,
the Sonics,
Stiv Bators,
The Cosmic Jokers,
a-ha,
Piero Umiliani,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Litter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Golliwogs,
Agent Orange,
Robert Wyatt,
the Slits,
Andrew Hill,
Idris Muhammad,
Rosa Yemen,
Theoretical Girls,
T. Rex,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Vainqueur,
Von Mondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Carl Craig,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eli Mardock,
The Gap Band,
The Remains,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nils Olav,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Dave Clark Five,
Junior Murvin,
Mr. Review,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.