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 Macedonia and from Calgary.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eden Ahbez to the punk 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The Five Americans,
Barbara Tucker,
Country Teasers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Thompson Twins,
Newcleus,
Leonard Cohen,
ABC,
Hardrive,
Suicide,
The Raincoats,
the Slits,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gichy Dan,
Brand Nubian,
Kas Product,
Albert Ayler,
Sixth Finger,
Ultra Naté,
The Litter,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Suburban Knight,
Motorama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Camouflage,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang of Four,
Roy Ayers,
The Misunderstood,
cv313,
Procol Harum,
X-101,
Slick Rick,
Dennis Brown,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Essential Logic,
The Stooges,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Duran Duran,
Ronan,
Supertramp,
The American Breed,
Ice-T,
Fat Boys,
Scott Walker,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Pretty Things,
Kayak,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
X-Ray Spex,
Aural Exciters,
Jerry's Kids,
DNA,
Roger Hodgson,
Los Fastidios,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.