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 Guatemala and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sun City Girls to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Yusef Lateef,
Joey Negro,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Doobie Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Buzzcocks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joensuu 1685,
Smog,
The Velvet Underground,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lightning Bolt,
The Slackers,
Yellowson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tears for Fears,
Arthur Verocai,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bang On A Can,
Robert Hood,
Agent Orange,
Spandau Ballet,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ronan,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-Ray Spex,
The Leaves,
Lungfish,
Monks,
Todd Terry,
Bizarre Inc.,
U.S. Maple,
Minny Pops,
Mars,
Sister Nancy,
Yazoo,
Procol Harum,
Excepter,
Magazine,
the Swans,
This Heat,
Wire,
FM Einheit,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Amon Düül,
Terrestrial Tones,
Laurel Aitken,
The Vogues,
These Immortal Souls,
Gabor Szabo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Chris Corsano,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.