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 Kuwait and from Madrid.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ 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 Wolf Eyes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Smoke,
X-101,
Lakeside,
John Coltrane,
Sound Behaviour,
Boogie Down Productions,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
The Gories,
B.T. Express,
Hot Snakes,
Davy DMX,
Black Bananas,
Bauhaus,
Stiv Bators,
Graham Central Station,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wings,
Aaron Thompson,
Yusef Lateef,
CMW,
Clear Light,
Zapp,
Bootsy Collins,
Theoretical Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
Youth Brigade,
The Modern Lovers,
Faraquet,
The Seeds,
The Golliwogs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Terrestrial Tones,
Radiohead,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mark Hollis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Kinks,
Das Ding,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pussy Galore,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Slackers,
Letta Mbulu,
Sonic Youth,
The Electric Prunes,
John Foxx,
Girls At Our Best!,
10cc,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Aural Exciters,
Blossom Toes,
Rakim,
Joe Finger,
EPMD,
Warren Ellis,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.