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 Vanuatu and from Madrid.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Freddie Wadling to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a linndrum 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 guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Lyres,
Dual Sessions,
Banda Bassotti,
Faust,
Black Flag,
Schoolly D,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Animal Collective,
Lalann,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy Collins,
Thompson Twins,
The Blues Magoos,
Wolf Eyes,
Arab on Radar,
The Names,
D'Angelo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Panda Bear,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lou Christie,
Marc Almond,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Unrelated Segments,
The Fortunes,
Bronski Beat,
David Axelrod,
Marshall Jefferson,
Basic Channel,
David McCallum,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rufus Thomas,
the Fania All-Stars,
48th St. Collective,
the Swans,
Livin' Joy,
The Count Five,
Idris Muhammad,
Ronnie Foster,
Eurythmics,
Yusef Lateef,
Nick Fraelich,
Cheater Slicks,
Babytalk,
DJ Sneak,
James White and The Blacks,
Suburban Knight,
Joe Smooth,
Visage,
Cybotron,
The Fall,
Kurtis Blow,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Coltrane,
The Detroit Cobras,
Skarface,
Soft Cell,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.