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 Tunisia 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Pantaleimon to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Duran Duran,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wire,
Jandek,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wally Richardson,
Todd Terry,
Grauzone,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Grandmaster Flash,
Outsiders,
Cecil Taylor,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Fortunes,
Aaron Thompson,
Mr. Review,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Standells,
John Holt,
Jacques Brel,
Quando Quango,
L. Decosne,
Stiv Bators,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers,
Funky Four + One,
KRS-One,
Faust,
The Barracudas,
The American Breed,
The Raincoats,
Dave Gahan,
X-Ray Spex,
The Monks,
Visage,
Piero Umiliani,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Almond,
Wolf Eyes,
Pulsallama,
The Black Dice,
Gong,
The Durutti Column,
The Index,
Public Image Ltd.,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Wasted Youth,
Howard Jones,
Terry Callier,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harry Pussy,
D'Angelo,
CMW,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sam Rivers,
Royal Trux,
Ludus,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.