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 South Africa and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Houston.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Adolescents to the jazz 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Livin' Joy,
Pulsallama,
One Last Wish,
Roy Ayers,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cowsills,
Eric Dolphy,
Faust,
Joe Finger,
Chrome,
Animal Collective,
Cybotron,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Smiths,
Skaos,
Jerry's Kids,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Derrick May,
Todd Rundgren,
Absolute Body Control,
The Searchers,
Juan Atkins,
Scott Walker,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fortunes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
David Axelrod,
The Associates,
Siglo XX,
Letta Mbulu,
Can,
The Motions,
The Walker Brothers,
Idris Muhammad,
ABBA,
The Shadows of Knight,
Urselle,
The New Christs,
Charles Mingus,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scrapy,
10cc,
The Seeds,
Khruangbin,
Swans,
Buzzcocks,
E-Dancer,
The Moleskins,
Dorothy Ashby,
Camberwell Now,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Selecter,
James White and The Blacks,
Neu!,
Sex Pistols,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.