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 Morocco and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Joensuu 1685,
T.S.O.L.,
Todd Rundgren,
Sam Rivers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fugazi,
Half Japanese,
Scan 7,
Procol Harum,
The Walker Brothers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Last Poets,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Toasters,
Faust,
X-Ray Spex,
Sällskapet,
Yellowson,
Minutemen,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marmalade,
Bobby Womack,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Hood,
Minor Threat,
The Gladiators,
The Mojo Men,
AZ,
H. Thieme,
Todd Terry,
Liliput,
Lyres,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
China Crisis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fugs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bronski Beat,
Grauzone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Theoretical Girls,
Panda Bear,
La Düsseldorf,
Eddi Front,
the Human League,
JFA,
Mantronix,
Nas,
Cymande,
John Cale,
Radiopuhelimet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Franke,
Pantaleimon,
Severed Heads,
The Selecter,
Rufus Thomas,
The Seeds,
Eden Ahbez,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.