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 Germany and from London.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Gladiators to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gories. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeff Mills,
Oneida,
R.M.O.,
Freddie Wadling,
The Sonics,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Terry,
Pole,
Barbara Tucker,
Young Marble Giants,
Lakeside,
Tubeway Army,
the Germs,
Eve St. Jones,
Siglo XX,
Agent Orange,
The Dirtbombs,
Radio Birdman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grey Daturas,
Cal Tjader,
The Names,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
John Foxx,
Kerri Chandler,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Gories,
OOIOO,
Bob Dylan,
Skaos,
Von Mondo,
The Music Machine,
Sun City Girls,
Suburban Knight,
The Kinks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Slave,
The Last Poets,
X-101,
Scientists,
Leonard Cohen,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Janne Schatter,
Derrick Morgan,
Simply Red,
Dorothy Ashby,
Robert Hood,
Eric Dolphy,
The Moody Blues,
Ken Boothe,
Black Sheep,
Nik Kershaw,
Sixth Finger,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Byrd,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jacob Miller,
This Heat,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Move,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.