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 Romania and from Delhi.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Angry Samoans to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
John Cale,
Heaven 17,
Hoover,
Shoche,
R.M.O.,
Television,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Easy Going,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Slits,
Can,
Matthew Halsall,
The Index,
Graham Central Station,
Agitation Free,
The Star Department,
Bobby Womack,
Peter & Gordon,
Oneida,
The Fuzztones,
Theoretical Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ludus,
Crash Course in Science,
The Cowsills,
48th St. Collective,
Negative Approach,
Deakin,
Rufus Thomas,
The Beau Brummels,
The Sound,
Ornette Coleman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Arthur Verocai,
The Golliwogs,
Moss Icon,
Lyres,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Cure,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang of Four,
Tres Demented,
Magazine,
Wolf Eyes,
Nick Fraelich,
Ultra Naté,
Hasil Adkins,
Neu!,
Nico,
Albert Ayler,
Eric Copeland,
Robert Wyatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Yazoo,
Thee Headcoats,
the Sonics,
Goldenarms,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.