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 Tunisia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 Simply Red 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pere Ubu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Zero Boys,
The Slackers,
Sex Pistols,
Idris Muhammad,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Barclay James Harvest,
Roxy Music,
Minutemen,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nick Fraelich,
June of 44,
Black Bananas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lou Reed,
Nirvana,
John Foxx,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
Iggy Pop,
Au Pairs,
James White and The Blacks,
The Golliwogs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sun City Girls,
Scott Walker,
Tropical Tobacco,
Qualms,
The Red Krayola,
Jerry's Kids,
Funkadelic,
Alice Coltrane,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radio Birdman,
Warsaw,
Prince Buster,
The Raincoats,
Funky Four + One,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Aaron Thompson,
Harmonia,
Soul II Soul,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brothers Johnson,
Zapp,
Marc Almond,
Ossler,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The J.B.'s,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gong,
The Sonics,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.