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 United States and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet 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 Eden Ahbez to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Man Eating Sloth,
FM Einheit,
Hoover,
Chris Corsano,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pagans,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonic Youth,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dorothy Ashby,
Donald Byrd,
Q65,
Bad Manners,
The Durutti Column,
Outsiders,
Warren Ellis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Underground Resistance,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fugs,
The Standells,
Mantronix,
Freddie Wadling,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Moby Grape,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funkadelic,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Searchers,
R.M.O.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ponytail,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rod Modell,
Rites of Spring,
The Moleskins,
Ituana,
Bobby Byrd,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cybotron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aaron Thompson,
The Happenings,
Procol Harum,
Fatback Band,
The Barracudas,
The Divine Comedy,
Hasil Adkins,
John Lydon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marc Almond,
Leonard Cohen,
Fela Kuti,
U.S. Maple,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Drive Like Jehu,
Young Marble Giants,
The Raincoats,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.