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 Korea South and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar 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 Babytalk to the dance 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Jerry's Kids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Selecter,
the Association,
Scion,
Faust,
Bush Tetras,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Agent Orange,
Lindisfarne,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sonics,
Excepter,
Bluetip,
Darondo,
Matthew Bourne,
B.T. Express,
The Count Five,
Joy Division,
John Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joensuu 1685,
Kenny Larkin,
Henry Cow,
Black Flag,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Harry Pussy,
Albert Ayler,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bill Wells,
Eddi Front,
Ornette Coleman,
The Human League,
Jacob Miller,
Cybotron,
The Beau Brummels,
The Wake,
Roy Ayers,
In Retrospect,
The Fuzztones,
Stockholm Monsters,
Howard Jones,
Carl Craig,
Model 500,
Magazine,
Leonard Cohen,
Sex Pistols,
Lucky Dragons,
Camberwell Now,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Anthony Braxton,
The Birthday Party,
Fat Boys,
Blossom Toes,
Jacques Brel,
Ice-T,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.