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 Czech Republic and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 808 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 Chris Corsano to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Mandrill,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Malaria!,
The Moleskins,
X-Ray Spex,
48th St. Collective,
Bush Tetras,
Bill Near,
Main Source,
The Gladiators,
Eric Dolphy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lou Reed,
Los Fastidios,
Eric Copeland,
Faraquet,
U.S. Maple,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cramps,
Cybotron,
Michelle Simonal,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
E-Dancer,
Soulsonic Force,
Althea and Donna,
Oneida,
Bobby Sherman,
Funky Four + One,
The Leaves,
Scan 7,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jawbox,
Thompson Twins,
K-Klass,
The Misunderstood,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Andrew Hill,
Qualms,
Lalann,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scratch Acid,
Steve Hackett,
Erykah Badu,
B.T. Express,
The Red Krayola,
The Golliwogs,
Terry Callier,
The Smiths,
Bang On A Can,
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
Iggy Pop,
Harry Pussy,
Hoover,
Anakelly,
Stetsasonic,
The Doors,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.