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 Iceland and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum 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 Crash Course in Science to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
John Lydon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eden Ahbez,
Lucky Dragons,
Mandrill,
Pierre Henry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare,
Icehouse,
Joe Smooth,
Neil Young,
10cc,
The Beau Brummels,
The Misunderstood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Human League,
The Fuzztones,
Black Pus,
Ornette Coleman,
Nas,
Dark Day,
Unwound,
David Bowie,
Audionom,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pulsallama,
Wally Richardson,
KRS-One,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Index,
June Days,
Magazine,
Nation of Ulysses,
Howard Jones,
Albert Ayler,
Kas Product,
Silicon Teens,
Bush Tetras,
Joe Finger,
Malaria!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skriet,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cheater Slicks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cramps,
Ponytail,
Funkadelic,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tim Buckley,
Junior Murvin,
Bobby Sherman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Roger Hodgson,
Bang On A Can,
Charles Mingus,
Eric Dolphy,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.