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 Korea South and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brass Construction to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Hoover,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nirvana,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Don Cherry,
The Sonics,
Index,
Eddi Front,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Aloha Tigers,
Ten City,
Whodini,
Sugar Minott,
Mary Jane Girls,
Das Ding,
Archie Shepp,
Neil Young,
The Smoke,
Pantytec,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bang On A Can,
Dave Gahan,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Coltrane,
Dead Boys,
Skarface,
Albert Ayler,
Funkadelic,
Bush Tetras,
Ossler,
Soul II Soul,
Boredoms,
The Five Americans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Henry Cow,
Au Pairs,
the Germs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Royal Trux,
Quadrant,
Arthur Verocai,
Main Source,
Brothers Johnson,
Eli Mardock,
Bronski Beat,
Barrington Levy,
Leonard Cohen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sixth Finger,
The Buckinghams,
KRS-One,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
H. Thieme,
Lalann,
Eden Ahbez,
48th St. Collective,
The Fortunes,
Average White Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.