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 Kyrgyzstan and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the grunge 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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and an arpeggiator 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 harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
China Crisis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Chris Corsano,
Albert Ayler,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott Heron,
New Age Steppers,
Intrusion,
Joyce Sims,
The Smiths,
Fugazi,
Hot Snakes,
Eve St. Jones,
Barry Ungar,
Symarip,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blake Baxter,
48th St. Collective,
The Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
Talk Talk,
Ice-T,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Public Enemy,
FM Einheit,
The Sonics,
World's Most,
Sällskapet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dead Boys,
The Martian,
Jacques Brel,
Thee Headcoats,
Unrelated Segments,
The Music Machine,
Buzzcocks,
Moebius,
Country Teasers,
The Cramps,
Morten Harket,
B.T. Express,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scratch Acid,
Wolf Eyes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Man Parrish,
Niagra,
Tomorrow,
Roxette,
The Gun Club,
ABBA,
Reagan Youth,
Max Romeo,
Flash Fearless,
MDC,
Robert Wyatt,
Whodini,
Lou Christie,
Scrapy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.