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 Nepal and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dead Boys to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Joy Division,
June of 44,
Blake Baxter,
The Five Americans,
The Golliwogs,
Kas Product,
Spoonie Gee,
The Durutti Column,
Aural Exciters,
The Young Rascals,
Mo-Dettes,
John Foxx,
The Buckinghams,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lightning Bolt,
Agent Orange,
One Last Wish,
ABC,
Make Up,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lebanon Hanover,
Charles Mingus,
The Slits,
Derrick Morgan,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Evens,
Bootsy Collins,
Pulsallama,
The Gories,
Smog,
The Doors,
Trumans Water,
Judy Mowatt,
The Monks,
Grauzone,
Chris & Cosey,
The Sonics,
the Slits,
Godley & Creme,
Yaz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Last Poets,
Lou Christie,
Newcleus,
Ronnie Foster,
The Leaves,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eden Ahbez,
MC5,
Maurizio,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bill Near,
David McCallum,
Moss Icon,
Barry Ungar,
Urselle,
The American Breed,
The Vogues,
Talk Talk,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.