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 Cape Verde and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer 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 World's Most to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Soulsonic Force,
DJ Style,
Letta Mbulu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rakim,
D'Angelo,
Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Eden Ahbez,
Model 500,
The Blackbyrds,
Minnie Riperton,
Ten City,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pussy Galore,
The Trojans,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grey Daturas,
Drive Like Jehu,
DJ Sneak,
The Golliwogs,
Patti Smith,
Clear Light,
The Gories,
Saccharine Trust,
Albert Ayler,
Mad Mike,
The Cowsills,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Gladiators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Q and Not U,
Malaria!,
The Mummies,
Yellowson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blake Baxter,
The Moody Blues,
Minor Threat,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Underground Resistance,
Livin' Joy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
the Sonics,
Camberwell Now,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Junior Murvin,
CMW,
8 Eyed Spy,
Los Fastidios,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nils Olav,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.