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 Thailand 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lightning Bolt to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Electric Prunes,
Bill Wells,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DNA,
Altered Images,
Newcleus,
Sparks,
The Standells,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suburban Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
Procol Harum,
Underground Resistance,
Lee Hazlewood,
Morten Harket,
Alphaville,
The American Breed,
Public Image Ltd.,
Television,
Grey Daturas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Patti Smith,
Black Moon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quadrant,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Buzzcocks,
Niagra,
Heaven 17,
The Velvet Underground,
Minutemen,
Hasil Adkins,
Fat Boys,
Warsaw,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Oneida,
Duran Duran,
Amon Düül,
The Buckinghams,
Anthony Braxton,
The Moleskins,
Johnny Osbourne,
Soulsonic Force,
Deakin,
The Angels of Light,
Joy Division,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Camouflage,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barbara Tucker,
Youth Brigade,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-101,
Arab on Radar,
Jandek,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cameo,
Angry Samoans,
Pussy Galore,
Minor Threat,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.