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 Saudi Arabia and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the dance 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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Red Krayola,
The Residents,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris & Cosey,
Jimmy McGriff,
Excepter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Howard Jones,
Lou Christie,
Soul Sonic Force,
Can,
Marine Girls,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
New York Dolls,
Japan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Quando Quango,
Livin' Joy,
Severed Heads,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Mojo Men,
Deakin,
Janne Schatter,
Cymande,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dirtbombs,
Nirvana,
Ornette Coleman,
Susan Cadogan,
the Association,
Pagans,
Aloha Tigers,
Sex Pistols,
The Stooges,
Supertramp,
Bush Tetras,
Lindisfarne,
Soulsonic Force,
Derrick Morgan,
H. Thieme,
The Durutti Column,
Quadrant,
Index,
The Slits,
Bootsy Collins,
The Saints,
Scrapy,
Average White Band,
the Human League,
Mission of Burma,
Swell Maps,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Agitation Free,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Carl Craig,
Y Pants,
Outsiders,
Radio Birdman,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June of 44,
The Detroit Cobras,
Alphaville,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.