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 Honduras and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Masters at Work,
The Count Five,
Delon & Dalcan,
Deepchord,
Pulsallama,
Shuggie Otis,
Toni Rubio,
Pylon,
Minny Pops,
Andrew Hill,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Darondo,
Peter and Kerry,
Tommy Roe,
Make Up,
The Fortunes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Amazonics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Modern Lovers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Japan,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Byrd,
JFA,
Moby Grape,
Rapeman,
the Human League,
Yellowson,
Bronski Beat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Arcadia,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Dirtbombs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Davy DMX,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Sonics,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fat Boys,
Brick,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Radiohead,
Alton Ellis,
Public Image Ltd.,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Misunderstood,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joe Finger,
Wolf Eyes,
The Buckinghams,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monolake,
John Holt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Cale,
Pole,
Mark Hollis,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.