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 Solomon Islands and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Taipei and Sao Paulo.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Model 500 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Lydon,
Fluxion,
JFA,
Yellowson,
Carl Craig,
Pet Shop Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
Faust,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
June of 44,
Yaz,
The Red Krayola,
Cymande,
Soul Sonic Force,
Barrington Levy,
Heaven 17,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Hill,
The Last Poets,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fear,
Basic Channel,
Nas,
Thee Headcoats,
DNA,
Gabor Szabo,
Pantaleimon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scratch Acid,
Dorothy Ashby,
Steve Hackett,
Janne Schatter,
Siglo XX,
Danielle Patucci,
Crime,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Slits,
Y Pants,
Barry Ungar,
F. McDonald,
Deepchord,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Neon Judgement,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Knickerbockers,
Roger Hodgson,
Camouflage,
Laurel Aitken,
Darondo,
ABBA,
Ituana,
The Mojo Men,
Young Marble Giants,
Absolute Body Control,
Circle Jerks,
The Barracudas,
Duran Duran,
Ohio Players,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.