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 Spokane.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare 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 The Wake to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boz Scaggs,
ABBA,
Maurizio,
Moebius,
Nick Fraelich,
Pere Ubu,
The Gories,
Saccharine Trust,
Newcleus,
The Mojo Men,
Deakin,
The Cramps,
Desert Stars,
Derrick May,
The Fortunes,
Black Sheep,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Dead C,
Brass Construction,
Shoche,
Crash Course in Science,
Goldenarms,
Q and Not U,
Marvin Gaye,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angry Samoans,
Ice-T,
The Cure,
Harmonia,
Sun Ra,
Loose Ends,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
X-Ray Spex,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Altered Images,
Reagan Youth,
Black Moon,
Jeru the Damaja,
DJ Style,
Blossom Toes,
The Red Krayola,
The Slackers,
The Gun Club,
Bang On A Can,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantytec,
DNA,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Prince Buster,
E-Dancer,
Television Personalities,
The Knickerbockers,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Yusef Lateef,
Rufus Thomas,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.