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 Fiji and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 linndrum 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 June Days to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Rites of Spring,
Theoretical Girls,
Sällskapet,
Crash Course in Science,
Intrusion,
JFA,
Scratch Acid,
UT,
Silicon Teens,
Joe Smooth,
June Days,
Lakeside,
Niagra,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
Hot Snakes,
The Index,
Black Bananas,
Wings,
Trumans Water,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lalann,
Boz Scaggs,
Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
Procol Harum,
These Immortal Souls,
R.M.O.,
The Blues Magoos,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
PIL,
The Names,
Depeche Mode,
The Divine Comedy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Junior Murvin,
New York Dolls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Model 500,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sound Behaviour,
Grey Daturas,
Severed Heads,
Lou Christie,
the Slits,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
Iggy Pop,
Jeff Mills,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gang Starr,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sandy B,
Peter & Gordon,
Reagan Youth,
Hoover,
Arcadia,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rhythm & Sound,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.