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 Algeria and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gang Green to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar 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 rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
New York Dolls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Reagan Youth,
B.T. Express,
Eurythmics,
Average White Band,
The American Breed,
Au Pairs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rod Modell,
Crash Course in Science,
Boz Scaggs,
David Axelrod,
Goldenarms,
Motorama,
Ohio Players,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Spoonie Gee,
Michelle Simonal,
Mantronix,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
These Immortal Souls,
The Divine Comedy,
Public Enemy,
Porter Ricks,
Nas,
The Invisible,
Youth Brigade,
The Moleskins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Blake Baxter,
KRS-One,
Gong,
the Soft Cell,
Avey Tare,
Mandrill,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bob Dylan,
Yaz,
Bootsy Collins,
Interpol,
Eli Mardock,
Donny Hathaway,
Royal Trux,
U.S. Maple,
Eden Ahbez,
Visage,
Ituana,
Pantytec,
Gang of Four,
Liliput,
Technova,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Martian,
Deadbeat,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
E-Dancer,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Sonics,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.