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 Serbia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the grunge 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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare,
The Offenders,
Brick,
Grey Daturas,
The Toasters,
The Star Department,
Fear,
Y Pants,
Adolescents,
The United States of America,
The Leaves,
Ohio Players,
Subhumans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Holt,
Rufus Thomas,
Masters at Work,
KRS-One,
The Selecter,
Cymande,
Idris Muhammad,
Bill Wells,
The Gories,
The Neon Judgement,
DJ Sneak,
The Busters,
LL Cool J,
The Saints,
Al Stewart,
Ituana,
Erasure,
Slave,
Liliput,
Whodini,
The Standells,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Womack,
ABBA,
Marc Almond,
Yusef Lateef,
Flash Fearless,
Albert Ayler,
Circle Jerks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Searchers,
Cluster,
Electric Prunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Soft Cell,
Barrington Levy,
Crooked Eye,
Neu!,
T. Rex,
The Moody Blues,
48th St. Collective,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nico,
Tres Demented,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.