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 Palau and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flamin' Groovies to the grime 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
UT,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
The Motions,
Joy Division,
The Move,
Kurtis Blow,
Scion,
Harry Pussy,
Alice Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young,
John Holt,
Tropical Tobacco,
Al Stewart,
F. McDonald,
R.M.O.,
Darondo,
Half Japanese,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tres Demented,
Goldenarms,
Bang On A Can,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sonny Sharrock,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Theoretical Girls,
Roxette,
The Misunderstood,
Terry Callier,
Eurythmics,
Joensuu 1685,
Prince Buster,
Japan,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Trojans,
Flipper,
Avey Tare,
The Stooges,
The Litter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wire,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Angels of Light,
Donald Byrd,
Gabor Szabo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Soft Cell,
Kenny Larkin,
Maleditus Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Walker Brothers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Y Pants,
Zapp,
Symarip,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.