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 Greece and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
48th St. Collective,
the Slits,
T.S.O.L.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Circle Jerks,
Minny Pops,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bluetip,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joensuu 1685,
Iggy Pop,
Banda Bassotti,
Unwound,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Dave Clark Five,
a-ha,
Accadde A,
CMW,
Altered Images,
The Searchers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Skriet,
The Pretty Things,
Boredoms,
Jesper Dahlback,
Silicon Teens,
Bad Manners,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ohio Players,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Urselle,
London Community Gospel Choir,
MC5,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Reuben Wilson,
The Knickerbockers,
Loose Ends,
The Doors,
The Modern Lovers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Schoolly D,
Harpers Bizarre,
Absolute Body Control,
Tropical Tobacco,
Terrestrial Tones,
Surgeon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Josef K,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Severed Heads,
Lower 48,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The American Breed,
Dark Day,
Hardrive,
Q and Not U,
Easy Going,
The Real Kids,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.