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 Indonesia and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord 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 Ohio Players 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Minor Threat,
Harry Pussy,
Tomorrow,
Crispy Ambulance,
Visage,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fugs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Görl,
Malaria!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mary Jane Girls,
Royal Trux,
Mark Hollis,
Charles Mingus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crash Course in Science,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alice Coltrane,
Tres Demented,
Kurtis Blow,
X-Ray Spex,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gap Band,
Sister Nancy,
The Slackers,
Erykah Badu,
Dennis Brown,
Minny Pops,
Accadde A,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dawn Penn,
Graham Central Station,
Nico,
Suicide,
kango's stein massive,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Slits,
Marc Almond,
T.S.O.L.,
The Count Five,
The Leaves,
Slave,
Thee Headcoats,
Nils Olav,
Dead Boys,
Davy DMX,
Severed Heads,
The Evens,
Magma,
Symarip,
OOIOO,
The Remains,
Bizarre Inc.,
Au Pairs,
DJ Sneak,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.