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 Monaco and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Reagan Youth,
Blossom Toes,
Dave Gahan,
Cecil Taylor,
John Holt,
Wings,
Michelle Simonal,
Darondo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
John Cale,
Suburban Knight,
Lyres,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Dark Day,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gichy Dan,
Audionom,
T. Rex,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Womack,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Electric Light Orchestra,
kango's stein massive,
Thee Headcoats,
the Human League,
Agitation Free,
Sparks,
Ken Boothe,
Saccharine Trust,
Alice Coltrane,
the Normal,
In Retrospect,
Bush Tetras,
The Beau Brummels,
Kool Moe Dee,
David McCallum,
Freddie Wadling,
Donald Byrd,
Jacques Brel,
Johnny Osbourne,
Spandau Ballet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fluxion,
Skarface,
The Seeds,
Junior Murvin,
Warsaw,
10cc,
Glambeats Corp.,
Peter and Kerry,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Derrick May,
DJ Style,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Don Cherry,
Underground Resistance,
X-Ray Spex,
New York Dolls,
Barrington Levy,
The Remains,
Letta Mbulu,
Rapeman,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.