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 Dominican Republic and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brand Nubian to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nils Olav. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Stiv Bators,
David McCallum,
Radiopuhelimet,
Slick Rick,
Eddi Front,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Stooges,
Bill Wells,
Alice Coltrane,
Royal Trux,
Connie Case,
Piero Umiliani,
K-Klass,
Skriet,
Scott Walker,
Franke,
The Cramps,
Eli Mardock,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ten City,
Alison Limerick,
Nation of Ulysses,
Circle Jerks,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare,
Joyce Sims,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
48th St. Collective,
Ice-T,
Don Cherry,
Albert Ayler,
Hasil Adkins,
Main Source,
The American Breed,
The Moleskins,
Black Sheep,
Visage,
The Fortunes,
CMW,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kaleidoscope,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mad Mike,
The Slackers,
Dead Boys,
Shoche,
Scion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lalann,
The Black Dice,
the Association,
the Slits,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tubeway Army,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.