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 East Timor and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Minnie Riperton to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Scratch Acid,
DJ Style,
Dead Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Sixth Finger,
Janne Schatter,
The Dead C,
Piero Umiliani,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eric Copeland,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Massinfluence,
Todd Rundgren,
Skriet,
Hot Snakes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Todd Terry,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Byrd,
Jerry's Kids,
John Lydon,
Trumans Water,
Nick Fraelich,
Agent Orange,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lou Christie,
ABC,
Q and Not U,
The Black Dice,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mummies,
Sound Behaviour,
Depeche Mode,
Skarface,
Sun City Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bill Wells,
Steve Hackett,
the Sonics,
The Index,
The Monks,
Bang On A Can,
Kas Product,
Rufus Thomas,
Monolake,
Zapp,
The Blues Magoos,
Ronnie Foster,
Tom Boy,
Alphaville,
Donny Hathaway,
Dave Gahan,
Minutemen,
Cheater Slicks,
Connie Case,
Vainqueur,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sugar Minott,
Flipper,
Matthew Halsall,
World's Most,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.