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 Liechtenstein 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 The Mighty Diamonds to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Scrapy,
Index,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Youth Brigade,
Icehouse,
Hasil Adkins,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joensuu 1685,
Sun Ra,
Sam Rivers,
Minny Pops,
Magazine,
Rites of Spring,
Brothers Johnson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jeff Lynne,
Suicide,
Mantronix,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Supertramp,
Wings,
John Coltrane,
Bang On A Can,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Kinks,
The Fuzztones,
Scan 7,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Pus,
Kayak,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Trumans Water,
Monolake,
The Trojans,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Remains,
Bobby Byrd,
AZ,
Thompson Twins,
T. Rex,
The American Breed,
Ultra Naté,
Al Stewart,
Mr. Review,
X-Ray Spex,
Banda Bassotti,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Zeros,
E-Dancer,
Franke,
Slick Rick,
Q and Not U,
Ohio Players,
Lou Reed,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cal Tjader,
Camberwell Now,
Minor Threat,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.