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 Comoros and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Hasil Adkins to the funk 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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Sheep,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thompson Twins,
JFA,
Lou Reed,
Spoonie Gee,
Unrelated Segments,
Sugar Minott,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mars,
Ice-T,
Judy Mowatt,
Maurizio,
Saccharine Trust,
John Holt,
Shuggie Otis,
Dead Boys,
E-Dancer,
Marine Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Stiv Bators,
The Litter,
Skaos,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Letta Mbulu,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
Outsiders,
Jacob Miller,
The Zeros,
Gang Starr,
Bronski Beat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Mojo Men,
Danielle Patucci,
Howard Jones,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Golliwogs,
The Blues Magoos,
The Doobie Brothers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sly & The Family Stone,
K-Klass,
Crispy Ambulance,
Whodini,
Con Funk Shun,
Popol Vuh,
Deakin,
The Angels of Light,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Man Parrish,
Sixth Finger,
Lower 48,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.