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 Montenegro and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Porter Ricks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Cale,
The Divine Comedy,
The Pretty Things,
Derrick May,
Piero Umiliani,
Pulsallama,
Black Pus,
Joe Smooth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Camberwell Now,
Hoover,
Hardrive,
Susan Cadogan,
Section 25,
Althea and Donna,
Robert Görl,
Sun Ra,
The Misunderstood,
Dead Boys,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Lynne,
Cheater Slicks,
Q and Not U,
Jacob Miller,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Birthday Party,
Lalo Schifrin,
Warsaw,
cv313,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Dead C,
Joensuu 1685,
Buzzcocks,
Outsiders,
KRS-One,
The Five Americans,
Saccharine Trust,
Dark Day,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grauzone,
Crime,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cameo,
Amon Düül II,
Slick Rick,
Chrome,
The Slits,
June of 44,
Ralphi Rosario,
James White and The Blacks,
The Motions,
Soulsonic Force,
Wasted Youth,
Black Bananas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suicide,
Bill Near,
Joey Negro,
Barclay James Harvest,
Can,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.