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 Poland and from Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Connie Case to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Scion,
Lower 48,
The Beau Brummels,
The Barracudas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hasil Adkins,
Eve St. Jones,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
JFA,
The Happenings,
PIL,
Sandy B,
Metal Thangz,
Anthony Braxton,
U.S. Maple,
Essential Logic,
Mandrill,
The New Christs,
The Buckinghams,
The Velvet Underground,
Tim Buckley,
Half Japanese,
The Associates,
Infiniti,
Amon Düül II,
Stereo Dub,
The Monochrome Set,
Peter & Gordon,
In Retrospect,
Minnie Riperton,
Neu!,
Cheater Slicks,
Electric Prunes,
Nico,
Warsaw,
The Doors,
The Smoke,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Saints,
Ultra Naté,
Sight & Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
Erasure,
Lou Reed,
Marcia Griffiths,
Aural Exciters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Make Up,
The Invisible,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Alarm Clocks,
X-Ray Spex,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.