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 Malaysia and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Joe Finger to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
A Certain Ratio,
Mandrill,
Bang On A Can,
David Axelrod,
Carl Craig,
Erykah Badu,
Crooked Eye,
Judy Mowatt,
The United States of America,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
DJ Style,
James White and The Blacks,
The Sonics,
Youth Brigade,
Von Mondo,
Television Personalities,
Sam Rivers,
Black Sheep,
Y Pants,
The Knickerbockers,
Jandek,
Oneida,
Desert Stars,
Niagra,
The Real Kids,
Kerri Chandler,
The Blackbyrds,
The Dirtbombs,
The American Breed,
Au Pairs,
Sixth Finger,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ronan,
Wasted Youth,
Pylon,
Inner City,
Alphaville,
Angry Samoans,
Blake Baxter,
Ten City,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Black Bananas,
Toni Rubio,
Trumans Water,
Second Layer,
The Kinks,
Boz Scaggs,
ABBA,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Soul II Soul,
Kevin Saunderson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ludus,
Motorama,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Infiniti,
Cecil Taylor,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.