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 Japan and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Juan Atkins to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Skriet,
Country Teasers,
Smog,
Bauhaus,
The Divine Comedy,
Hardrive,
Section 25,
Depeche Mode,
ABC,
Massinfluence,
Echospace,
Metal Thangz,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sex Pistols,
Yazoo,
Black Bananas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Index,
Tom Boy,
Gang Green,
Blake Baxter,
The Toasters,
Von Mondo,
Lucky Dragons,
Shoche,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nils Olav,
Ultra Naté,
DNA,
Slave,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minnie Riperton,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Leaves,
CMW,
Kas Product,
A Flock of Seagulls,
James White and The Blacks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tres Demented,
The Offenders,
Chris Corsano,
Roxy Music,
The Vogues,
Freddie Wadling,
the Germs,
Mark Hollis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Glambeats Corp.,
The New Christs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tears for Fears,
Desert Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
Japan,
Johnny Clarke,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.