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 Albania and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 The Mighty Diamonds to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
The Dirtbombs,
T. Rex,
Deepchord,
Von Mondo,
The Slackers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Motorama,
Lyres,
Echospace,
Yaz,
Wally Richardson,
Minnie Riperton,
Popol Vuh,
Joe Finger,
New York Dolls,
H. Thieme,
Wire,
Jandek,
Toni Rubio,
cv313,
The Angels of Light,
Man Parrish,
This Heat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Desert Stars,
The Skatalites,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mad Mike,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Aloha Tigers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Juan Atkins,
Main Source,
Supertramp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Royal Trux,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joyce Sims,
Swell Maps,
In Retrospect,
Angry Samoans,
Altered Images,
The Monks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Faust,
Pantaleimon,
Archie Shepp,
Television,
The United States of America,
Gabor Szabo,
Eddi Front,
Thee Headcoats,
Funky Four + One,
Fear,
Mr. Review,
Tommy Roe,
Kerri Chandler,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.