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 Singapore and from London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 arpeggiator 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 Joe Smooth to the jazz 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
The Flesh Eaters,
a-ha,
Hardrive,
Derrick May,
The Moleskins,
The Neon Judgement,
Japan,
Alison Limerick,
Ice-T,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
Masters at Work,
Gong,
Arcadia,
The Remains,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bootsy Collins,
Faraquet,
The Index,
The Move,
Boredoms,
8 Eyed Spy,
Essential Logic,
Slave,
The Victims,
L. Decosne,
The Doors,
Rakim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fugazi,
Scan 7,
Mad Mike,
the Fania All-Stars,
Anakelly,
Flash Fearless,
Loose Ends,
Pulsallama,
Pole,
Eurythmics,
The Fortunes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ohio Players,
The Fall,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Urselle,
The Five Americans,
The Toasters,
The Martian,
Jeff Mills,
Sparks,
Soulsonic Force,
Liliput,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Drive Like Jehu,
Newcleus,
Ituana,
Thompson Twins,
The Mummies,
Reagan Youth,
Wings,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.