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 Cyprus and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lou Christie to the rap 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Iggy Pop,
Camberwell Now,
Slick Rick,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Michelle Simonal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Human League,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Underground Resistance,
The Kinks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lebanon Hanover,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Siglo XX,
Accadde A,
Agent Orange,
Patti Smith,
Unwound,
Gichy Dan,
Scion,
R.M.O.,
UT,
FM Einheit,
48th St. Collective,
Aaron Thompson,
Barrington Levy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Severed Heads,
Kas Product,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alice Coltrane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ultravox,
Barbara Tucker,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Divine Comedy,
The Slits,
Brothers Johnson,
Gabor Szabo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eli Mardock,
Dead Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wasted Youth,
The Skatalites,
Technova,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Move,
Panda Bear,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Animal Collective,
Fat Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.