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 Jordan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 JFA to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
The Mummies,
Juan Atkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Loose Ends,
Peter and Kerry,
Joyce Sims,
Black Pus,
Mo-Dettes,
Saccharine Trust,
E-Dancer,
Ten City,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Danielle Patucci,
A Certain Ratio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Make Up,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Alice Coltrane,
Josef K,
X-Ray Spex,
ABBA,
Iggy Pop,
The Red Krayola,
The Five Americans,
OOIOO,
The Gories,
H. Thieme,
The Dirtbombs,
Second Layer,
Deadbeat,
The Moleskins,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dennis Brown,
Heaven 17,
Kerri Chandler,
Motorama,
The Detroit Cobras,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Altered Images,
Bizarre Inc.,
Flash Fearless,
Moebius,
Radio Birdman,
Rod Modell,
Echospace,
Roy Ayers,
Television,
K-Klass,
Youth Brigade,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Arcadia,
Camouflage,
Quando Quango,
The Vogues,
Qualms,
Bobby Byrd,
Schoolly D,
Black Sheep,
Letta Mbulu,
Eddi Front,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.