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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar 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 Lalann to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Japan,
Fat Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
This Heat,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeff Mills,
The Victims,
Isaac Hayes,
Dark Day,
The Gun Club,
Bad Manners,
Maleditus Sound,
Scratch Acid,
Iggy Pop,
Eli Mardock,
Arab on Radar,
Josef K,
The Pop Group,
Alphaville,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jacques Brel,
The Cowsills,
The Busters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Patti Smith,
Kurtis Blow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blancmange,
Second Layer,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Byron Stingily,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Depeche Mode,
The Dirtbombs,
Alice Coltrane,
Thompson Twins,
Sällskapet,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Barclay James Harvest,
World's Most,
Von Mondo,
Gang Gang Dance,
Steve Hackett,
Camberwell Now,
Banda Bassotti,
Aaron Thompson,
Freddie Wadling,
Organ,
The Gories,
David Bowie,
Minny Pops,
Dead Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
Livin' Joy,
Angry Samoans,
Nico,
The Electric Prunes,
Scrapy,
Severed Heads,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.