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 Vietnam and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Stetsasonic to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sam Rivers,
Mo-Dettes,
Kayak,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Suicide,
Cecil Taylor,
The Wake,
Negative Approach,
Minnie Riperton,
Pagans,
Connie Case,
Lightning Bolt,
Cameo,
Motorama,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Evens,
Tres Demented,
Underground Resistance,
Eddi Front,
Banda Bassotti,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pole,
The Golliwogs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rites of Spring,
Cybotron,
Porter Ricks,
Electric Prunes,
Bill Wells,
Jawbox,
Amon Düül,
The Index,
Dark Day,
Eurythmics,
Robert Hood,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pussy Galore,
Ultimate Spinach,
Chris Corsano,
Minny Pops,
Audionom,
Main Source,
Peter & Gordon,
Drexciya,
Das Ding,
Shoche,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Red Krayola,
These Immortal Souls,
The Associates,
Warren Ellis,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
Metal Thangz,
Eden Ahbez,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dirtbombs,
Alison Limerick,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
F. McDonald,
DJ Style,
Public Image Ltd.,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.