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 Bahrain and from Halifax.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dead Boys to the grime 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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Nirvana,
Kevin Saunderson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bob Dylan,
The Neon Judgement,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Lynne,
Anthony Braxton,
Maleditus Sound,
The Dead C,
Johnny Clarke,
New Age Steppers,
Blossom Toes,
The Golliwogs,
Chrome,
Little Man,
Public Enemy,
The Birthday Party,
The Sound,
The Black Dice,
Lalann,
Severed Heads,
Thompson Twins,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Index,
The Searchers,
Lower 48,
Michelle Simonal,
Dorothy Ashby,
Absolute Body Control,
Ituana,
Althea and Donna,
X-102,
Derrick May,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The J.B.'s,
Kurtis Blow,
Vladislav Delay,
Masters at Work,
The Saints,
Lindisfarne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arthur Verocai,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Human League,
Depeche Mode,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Jandek,
Roger Hodgson,
Oblivians,
The Busters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eddi Front,
Soft Machine,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sonics,
Model 500,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.