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 Laos and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Tres Demented to the punk 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
Lucky Dragons,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thompson Twins,
Main Source,
Babytalk,
Brick,
Mantronix,
Howard Jones,
Black Flag,
Nik Kershaw,
Tim Buckley,
Scientists,
New York Dolls,
Roxette,
John Lydon,
Connie Case,
The Durutti Column,
The Dirtbombs,
Slick Rick,
Suicide,
Minny Pops,
Masters at Work,
The Fall,
Lightning Bolt,
Audionom,
The Offenders,
Byron Stingily,
Black Pus,
Con Funk Shun,
Fear,
The Motions,
The Barracudas,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lou Christie,
Bauhaus,
The Remains,
Radio Birdman,
Young Marble Giants,
Sandy B,
Reuben Wilson,
This Heat,
New Order,
Fatback Band,
Alton Ellis,
The American Breed,
Boogie Down Productions,
Yusef Lateef,
The Moleskins,
Roger Hodgson,
Deadbeat,
Vainqueur,
The Count Five,
The Red Krayola,
the Association,
Amazonics,
Flash Fearless,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Barrington Levy,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.