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 Marshall Islands and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Harmonia to the dance 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
The American Breed,
Minor Threat,
Letta Mbulu,
Mandrill,
Pagans,
Chris & Cosey,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Public Enemy,
The Red Krayola,
Tom Boy,
Eric Dolphy,
Guru Guru,
Shuggie Otis,
The Blues Magoos,
Fad Gadget,
Gichy Dan,
Jerry's Kids,
Scan 7,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Peter and Kerry,
Connie Case,
Jawbox,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grauzone,
Joy Division,
Flipper,
The Selecter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anthony Braxton,
Darondo,
Funkadelic,
R.M.O.,
David Bowie,
Soul II Soul,
Vainqueur,
Rosa Yemen,
Brass Construction,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barclay James Harvest,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Pretty Things,
Nik Kershaw,
Clear Light,
Cal Tjader,
The Barracudas,
Deepchord,
Young Marble Giants,
Kenny Larkin,
La Düsseldorf,
The Monochrome Set,
Mad Mike,
the Normal,
Drexciya,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crime,
KRS-One,
Idris Muhammad,
Joe Smooth,
Visage,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.