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 Bulgaria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the techno 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 Urselle. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Joe Smooth,
Unwound,
Fat Boys,
The Sound,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magazine,
Lou Reed,
Quadrant,
Make Up,
Popol Vuh,
Morten Harket,
Bob Dylan,
Nick Fraelich,
Lightning Bolt,
Wire,
Brand Nubian,
The Associates,
Tears for Fears,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tom Boy,
The Moleskins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Von Mondo,
Clear Light,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rod Modell,
Rekid,
David Axelrod,
Anakelly,
Robert Görl,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobby Sherman,
The Zeros,
Curtis Mayfield,
Inner City,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sam Rivers,
Swans,
Little Man,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Spandau Ballet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mission of Burma,
Theoretical Girls,
Slave,
The American Breed,
Sister Nancy,
Fugazi,
Sparks,
The Fall,
Pere Ubu,
Scion,
Lakeside,
Minnie Riperton,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mad Mike,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.