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 Antigua and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Chris Corsano to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Stooges,
Gang of Four,
Cymande,
T. Rex,
The Birthday Party,
Kenny Larkin,
Aural Exciters,
LL Cool J,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Raincoats,
Maleditus Sound,
the Germs,
Pulsallama,
Todd Terry,
Average White Band,
Gang Starr,
Angry Samoans,
La Düsseldorf,
Thee Headcoats,
The Techniques,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pole,
Sparks,
Livin' Joy,
Underground Resistance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Boz Scaggs,
the Sonics,
Lyres,
Ornette Coleman,
Don Cherry,
Babytalk,
The Neon Judgement,
Lungfish,
Dennis Brown,
Erasure,
Hot Snakes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stetsasonic,
The Divine Comedy,
The Offenders,
Deadbeat,
Brick,
New Order,
Wings,
EPMD,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Young Marble Giants,
Man Parrish,
Bang On A Can,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mo-Dettes,
Barbara Tucker,
Fugazi,
The Sonics,
Rites of Spring,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.