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 Denmark and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
8 Eyed Spy,
PIL,
The Last Poets,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fugazi,
Colin Newman,
The Dead C,
Peter & Gordon,
Loose Ends,
Sex Pistols,
The Happenings,
Junior Murvin,
The Golliwogs,
Pole,
Sällskapet,
Brick,
Sandy B,
EPMD,
Saccharine Trust,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cal Tjader,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Birthday Party,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Absolute Body Control,
Spandau Ballet,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Man Parrish,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mr. Review,
Barrington Levy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lou Reed,
Morten Harket,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims,
The American Breed,
Motorama,
Blancmange,
Grauzone,
The Fortunes,
Black Bananas,
Jerry's Kids,
June Days,
Interpol,
Joey Negro,
The Residents,
Japan,
Chrome,
H. Thieme,
Neil Young,
Wally Richardson,
The Standells,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.