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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Crash Course in Science to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Q65 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
a-ha,
Funkadelic,
Chrome,
Yazoo,
The Dirtbombs,
the Germs,
Inner City,
Malaria!,
Glenn Branca,
Drive Like Jehu,
Suicide,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Silicon Teens,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arthur Verocai,
Rosa Yemen,
Sex Pistols,
Nas,
Youth Brigade,
Brothers Johnson,
Minnie Riperton,
Underground Resistance,
China Crisis,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Maleditus Sound,
Amon Düül II,
Archie Shepp,
Flash Fearless,
The Mummies,
Japan,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Marvin Gaye,
Fatback Band,
48th St. Collective,
Surgeon,
Aural Exciters,
Wasted Youth,
Tommy Roe,
Lungfish,
Ludus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Max Romeo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Desert Stars,
Hashim,
Khruangbin,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stockholm Monsters,
Television Personalities,
ABC,
Hardrive,
New York Dolls,
Blossom Toes,
cv313,
F. McDonald,
Cymande,
Tres Demented,
Basic Channel,
Mo-Dettes,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.