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 Kyrgyzstan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Visage to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Byron Stingily,
Juan Atkins,
Public Image Ltd.,
Visage,
Barry Ungar,
Aural Exciters,
The Buckinghams,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hoover,
Zero Boys,
The Pretty Things,
The Fortunes,
Eddi Front,
Soul II Soul,
OOIOO,
Chris & Cosey,
The Selecter,
Donald Byrd,
Surgeon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Danielle Patucci,
The Grass Roots,
Bill Wells,
The Techniques,
Scientists,
Deepchord,
Hardrive,
The Martian,
Gong,
Sound Behaviour,
Althea and Donna,
Qualms,
Arab on Radar,
Public Enemy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marmalade,
The Trojans,
Sun Ra,
10cc,
Blossom Toes,
The Golliwogs,
Deakin,
K-Klass,
The Saints,
Wasted Youth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cymande,
Ultravox,
Liliput,
The Remains,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
Donny Hathaway,
Brick,
Hot Snakes,
Crooked Eye,
Marc Almond,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
UT,
X-Ray Spex,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.