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 Micronesia and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum 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 Blake Baxter to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scion,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thompson Twins,
K-Klass,
Unwound,
DJ Style,
Black Pus,
Q and Not U,
The Evens,
The Victims,
Donald Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Aural Exciters,
Clear Light,
Lou Reed,
Rekid,
Hardrive,
Jawbox,
The Moleskins,
Outsiders,
Soul II Soul,
The Neon Judgement,
La Düsseldorf,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dave Gahan,
The Index,
Brand Nubian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun Ra,
Camouflage,
Lightning Bolt,
Wasted Youth,
Kas Product,
Don Cherry,
Country Teasers,
Section 25,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harmonia,
ABC,
Angry Samoans,
Joey Negro,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Walker Brothers,
the Soft Cell,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tears for Fears,
X-102,
The Remains,
Dennis Brown,
Gang Green,
Moby Grape,
Sandy B,
Smog,
Main Source,
Ituana,
Eric Copeland,
James White and The Blacks,
Bush Tetras,
Wire,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.