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 Bahamas and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amon Düül,
The Human League,
Roxy Music,
John Lydon,
Lungfish,
Camouflage,
Niagra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jesper Dahlback,
Au Pairs,
R.M.O.,
Rites of Spring,
Q and Not U,
Lou Christie,
In Retrospect,
DJ Sneak,
The Busters,
The Gap Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Donny Hathaway,
Groovy Waters,
The Gladiators,
Piero Umiliani,
Mandrill,
Flash Fearless,
The Trojans,
Qualms,
10cc,
the Germs,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sällskapet,
Scrapy,
Motorama,
New Age Steppers,
Anthony Braxton,
Althea and Donna,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Moon,
Country Teasers,
the Swans,
Nick Fraelich,
Mantronix,
Minutemen,
Graham Central Station,
Faust,
Agitation Free,
The Pretty Things,
Sixth Finger,
Franke,
Brothers Johnson,
Goldenarms,
The Dead C,
Derrick Morgan,
T.S.O.L.,
Electric Prunes,
The Young Rascals,
the Human League,
Cymande,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.