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 Uganda and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the punk 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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Desert Stars,
Pantytec,
James White and The Blacks,
Danielle Patucci,
This Heat,
Kerri Chandler,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Slits,
The Index,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Birthday Party,
Scrapy,
Junior Murvin,
Lightning Bolt,
Max Romeo,
The Black Dice,
Yellowson,
Sex Pistols,
Blossom Toes,
Jeff Lynne,
Althea and Donna,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nirvana,
Lower 48,
Moss Icon,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Residents,
Essential Logic,
Los Fastidios,
Excepter,
Tears for Fears,
Television,
Rites of Spring,
Janne Schatter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ronan,
The Music Machine,
Blancmange,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Malaria!,
The Doors,
The Grass Roots,
The Mummies,
Pharoah Sanders,
Simply Red,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Sonics,
Maurizio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Royal Trux,
UT,
Loose Ends,
Arthur Verocai,
Vainqueur,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.