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 Israel and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin 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 F. McDonald to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
The Remains,
Joyce Sims,
Vladislav Delay,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bush Tetras,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Residents,
The Litter,
Bobby Womack,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ultravox,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABC,
Fluxion,
Rosa Yemen,
Pierre Henry,
Moss Icon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Anthony Braxton,
Drexciya,
the Normal,
Electric Prunes,
Average White Band,
Nirvana,
Infiniti,
Black Moon,
Bob Dylan,
Q and Not U,
Scion,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Last Poets,
Iggy Pop,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tubeway Army,
Minutemen,
T. Rex,
The Star Department,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Coltrane,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joe Finger,
Au Pairs,
Byron Stingily,
Quando Quango,
Mad Mike,
The Happenings,
Faraquet,
Arcadia,
Little Man,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Zeros,
Jesper Dahlback,
Yaz,
Man Parrish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.