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 Yemen and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fortunes to the disco 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Lucky Dragons,
Unwound,
Danielle Patucci,
Marine Girls,
Little Man,
Pere Ubu,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Mills,
Arthur Verocai,
Lindisfarne,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dead C,
E-Dancer,
Country Teasers,
Subhumans,
Reagan Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joe Smooth,
The Vogues,
Qualms,
Soft Cell,
Patti Smith,
Neil Young,
The Music Machine,
The Golliwogs,
The Grass Roots,
Ituana,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Main Source,
The Moody Blues,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Minny Pops,
The Monks,
The Litter,
The Five Americans,
Alice Coltrane,
Delon & Dalcan,
Niagra,
Boz Scaggs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Young Marble Giants,
Eric Copeland,
Radiohead,
Ice-T,
Mars,
Sugar Minott,
The Mummies,
Slave,
Letta Mbulu,
Accadde A,
The J.B.'s,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
In Retrospect,
The Gun Club,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Reed,
Siglo XX,
Bobby Womack,
Aaron Thompson,
The Fire Engines,
Radio Birdman,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.