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 Congo and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Porter Ricks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Janne Schatter,
Rufus Thomas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Thompson Twins,
Cameo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Zero Boys,
Dark Day,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Make Up,
Grandmaster Flash,
Patti Smith,
Boredoms,
Bob Dylan,
Ossler,
Curtis Mayfield,
Vainqueur,
Avey Tare,
Sex Pistols,
Half Japanese,
Scratch Acid,
Barbara Tucker,
The Durutti Column,
Peter and Kerry,
H. Thieme,
the Sonics,
Surgeon,
Stiv Bators,
Niagra,
The Names,
Gang of Four,
Severed Heads,
Easy Going,
Grauzone,
John Foxx,
Peter & Gordon,
Trumans Water,
Stetsasonic,
ABBA,
Silicon Teens,
Nick Fraelich,
Amon Düül II,
Don Cherry,
The Electric Prunes,
Kayak,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Judy Mowatt,
The Residents,
Siglo XX,
Neil Young,
Derrick May,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tom Boy,
Ice-T,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sugar Minott,
Thee Headcoats,
Minny Pops,
Von Mondo,
Can,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.