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 Brunei and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Absolute Body Control to the dance 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Blake Baxter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Circle Jerks,
Faust,
Bang On A Can,
Radiohead,
The Slits,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roger Hodgson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Busters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
UT,
The Saints,
The Remains,
The Fugs,
Tears for Fears,
Vladislav Delay,
Ronnie Foster,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Johnny Clarke,
Goldenarms,
Darondo,
MDC,
Janne Schatter,
Pylon,
The Five Americans,
Scion,
The Skatalites,
The Selecter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Green,
Angry Samoans,
Desert Stars,
Bob Dylan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang of Four,
L. Decosne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hoover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sparks,
Nas,
The Victims,
Niagra,
X-Ray Spex,
Gabor Szabo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.