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 United Kingdom and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the funk 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
World's Most,
Silicon Teens,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
T. Rex,
Bobby Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
Camberwell Now,
Saccharine Trust,
Mr. Review,
Funky Four + One,
Iggy Pop,
Wolf Eyes,
Sarah Menescal,
The Music Machine,
Spandau Ballet,
48th St. Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minutemen,
Parry Music,
Eli Mardock,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Monks,
Marmalade,
The Saints,
Malaria!,
Loose Ends,
The Knickerbockers,
Fat Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Frankie Knuckles,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Althea and Donna,
Fatback Band,
Make Up,
Sandy B,
Sugar Minott,
The Moleskins,
Desert Stars,
Wally Richardson,
The Searchers,
The Black Dice,
Howard Jones,
The Fuzztones,
Lou Christie,
JFA,
Wire,
Goldenarms,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Quadrant,
Agitation Free,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ten City,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pylon,
Tim Buckley,
Animal Collective,
Lalo Schifrin,
James White and The Blacks,
Idris Muhammad,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.