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 Rwanda and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 The Dead C to the grunge 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Jawbox,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Cure,
Lou Christie,
Traffic Nightmare,
Todd Terry,
Ornette Coleman,
The Vogues,
The Divine Comedy,
Harry Pussy,
Maurizio,
The Zeros,
Arcadia,
Robert Görl,
Scan 7,
Carl Craig,
Eric B and Rakim,
Clear Light,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Style,
Joey Negro,
Pantytec,
Darondo,
Excepter,
The Toasters,
Dark Day,
Gong,
Bad Manners,
Nik Kershaw,
The Raincoats,
Soft Cell,
Toni Rubio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flash Fearless,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eddi Front,
Stiv Bators,
Boz Scaggs,
Rapeman,
Kaleidoscope,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Remains,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nils Olav,
The Doobie Brothers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fad Gadget,
Sexual Harrassment,
Howard Jones,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
JFA,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.