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 Tuvalu and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Unwound 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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin 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 chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Kenny Larkin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Moby Grape,
Cluster,
Procol Harum,
Young Marble Giants,
Jeff Lynne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
AZ,
The Monks,
Surgeon,
R.M.O.,
Los Fastidios,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bluetip,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jerry's Kids,
Drexciya,
Dawn Penn,
Trumans Water,
Black Pus,
Quadrant,
Crime,
Panda Bear,
Cecil Taylor,
DNA,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ohio Players,
Faust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
PIL,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joey Negro,
Spandau Ballet,
Skarface,
Technova,
The American Breed,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Holt,
Country Teasers,
The Tremeloes,
The Invisible,
E-Dancer,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Whodini,
Goldenarms,
Donald Byrd,
The Pop Group,
Juan Atkins,
Black Moon,
Rekid,
Pantaleimon,
New York Dolls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Charles Mingus,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Standells,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.