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 Sweden and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ 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 Toni Rubio to the grunge 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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum 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 rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
D'Angelo,
Fugazi,
Quantec,
Public Enemy,
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
Bush Tetras,
Tim Buckley,
Sarah Menescal,
Liliput,
John Cale,
Livin' Joy,
48th St. Collective,
X-101,
Scratch Acid,
The Vogues,
K-Klass,
Jandek,
Tomorrow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jawbox,
Bill Near,
Mandrill,
Bang On A Can,
Symarip,
The Motions,
Icehouse,
The Last Poets,
Kevin Saunderson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lindisfarne,
Sight & Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
Mantronix,
Stetsasonic,
The Music Machine,
Fat Boys,
This Heat,
Minny Pops,
Lungfish,
Judy Mowatt,
Neu!,
Gong,
Banda Bassotti,
Chrome,
Bobby Byrd,
The Names,
John Foxx,
Suicide,
Tears for Fears,
The Real Kids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Throbbing Gristle,
FM Einheit,
Hoover,
Parry Music,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.