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 Luxembourg and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bush Tetras to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C 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?
Tommy Roe,
Scientists,
the Swans,
Mad Mike,
James Chance & The Contortions,
John Holt,
Warren Ellis,
Wings,
Frankie Knuckles,
Shoche,
Andrew Hill,
The Neon Judgement,
The Vogues,
David McCallum,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Thee Headcoats,
Radiopuhelimet,
Grauzone,
Infiniti,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Skatalites,
Tres Demented,
Gong,
Cameo,
Los Fastidios,
Scott Walker,
Rotary Connection,
Arthur Verocai,
48th St. Collective,
Yazoo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Amazonics,
Bill Wells,
Lower 48,
Joe Smooth,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultimate Spinach,
Half Japanese,
Hardrive,
OOIOO,
The Birthday Party,
Index,
Grandmaster Flash,
Smog,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Guru Guru,
Massinfluence,
The Pop Group,
The Red Krayola,
The Cramps,
Bootsy Collins,
Amon Düül II,
Roxy Music,
Graham Central Station,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cybotron,
Talk Talk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Gories,
The Gun Club,
Tim Buckley,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.