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 Belarus and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Boogie Down Productions to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Aaron Thompson,
The American Breed,
Quadrant,
Lindisfarne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lower 48,
48th St. Collective,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Dave Clark Five,
Crispian St. Peters,
Neu!,
Roy Ayers,
Joy Division,
New Order,
Flamin' Groovies,
B.T. Express,
Black Sheep,
Drexciya,
The Wake,
Erykah Badu,
Sam Rivers,
Quando Quango,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Modern Lovers,
Severed Heads,
The Remains,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Interpol,
Masters at Work,
Iggy Pop,
Mandrill,
Public Image Ltd.,
Connie Case,
Fear,
The Victims,
Urselle,
In Retrospect,
Eve St. Jones,
Minny Pops,
John Foxx,
The Young Rascals,
Danielle Patucci,
Stiv Bators,
The Monks,
U.S. Maple,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
John Cale,
Television,
Mars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Harry Pussy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joyce Sims,
Anthony Braxton,
Rites of Spring,
Livin' Joy,
Half Japanese,
Q and Not U,
Eric Dolphy,
Nico,
Wire,
Sarah Menescal,
Radio Birdman,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.