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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Glambeats Corp. to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Motions. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Isaac Hayes,
The Buckinghams,
The Black Dice,
Sugar Minott,
Bizarre Inc.,
Boz Scaggs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
10cc,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeff Lynne,
Peter and Kerry,
Model 500,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cymande,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scientists,
Mad Mike,
The Kinks,
Maurizio,
Scott Walker,
Swans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Technova,
Erykah Badu,
Scratch Acid,
Interpol,
Can,
The United States of America,
Jacques Brel,
The Sonics,
Silicon Teens,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lee Hazlewood,
John Holt,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Anthony Braxton,
Warsaw,
Soft Machine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tres Demented,
Sarah Menescal,
Swell Maps,
Dead Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Ornette Coleman,
Minutemen,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Saints,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nick Fraelich,
The Seeds,
Toni Rubio,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.