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 Russia and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Scrapy to the punk 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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bizarre Inc. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Sisters of Mercy,
Arab on Radar,
F. McDonald,
Ronan,
Rapeman,
Fear,
KRS-One,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
The Invisible,
Y Pants,
Popol Vuh,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ice-T,
Jacob Miller,
Darondo,
Malaria!,
John Holt,
Ronnie Foster,
The Standells,
Pantytec,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang of Four,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeff Mills,
Boogie Down Productions,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Motions,
Deadbeat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cheater Slicks,
Hashim,
Clear Light,
Ponytail,
Ohio Players,
Skaos,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mars,
Todd Rundgren,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crash Course in Science,
Eve St. Jones,
The Martian,
The Fugs,
Robert Hood,
Eric Copeland,
Yellowson,
The Slackers,
Laurel Aitken,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oblivians,
Monks,
Adolescents,
Freddie Wadling,
Alton Ellis,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gladiators,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.