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 the UAE and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Throbbing Gristle to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Steve Hackett,
Parry Music,
The Electric Prunes,
Panda Bear,
The Sonics,
Mandrill,
PIL,
KRS-One,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ohio Players,
The Index,
X-Ray Spex,
The United States of America,
The Invisible,
Anthony Braxton,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hoover,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Quadrant,
Radiopuhelimet,
Boredoms,
Essential Logic,
Blake Baxter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Inner City,
Jimmy McGriff,
FM Einheit,
Excepter,
H. Thieme,
Duran Duran,
Reuben Wilson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Five Americans,
Ultimate Spinach,
New York Dolls,
Can,
Idris Muhammad,
Hot Snakes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Japan,
The Fugs,
Subhumans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ultra Naté,
Bobby Byrd,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Knickerbockers,
Radiohead,
Interpol,
Susan Cadogan,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Trojans,
The Blues Magoos,
The Real Kids,
Lou Reed,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.