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 Gambia and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Suicide to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Groovy Waters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Inner City,
Bobby Sherman,
The Standells,
Severed Heads,
Dark Day,
Cluster,
Joey Negro,
Robert Görl,
Bang On A Can,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Idris Muhammad,
Moby Grape,
Panda Bear,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Human League,
Archie Shepp,
Minor Threat,
Maleditus Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
Iggy Pop,
Soft Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
The Wake,
Spandau Ballet,
David McCallum,
Roxy Music,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fall,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Trumans Water,
48th St. Collective,
Deepchord,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Almond,
The Beau Brummels,
Nico,
Mandrill,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Techniques,
Quando Quango,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nik Kershaw,
The Birthday Party,
Reagan Youth,
Arthur Verocai,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mummies,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Stooges,
Gang of Four,
D'Angelo,
Michelle Simonal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Connie Case,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.