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 Swaziland and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the jazz 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
The J.B.'s,
Vainqueur,
June of 44,
Slick Rick,
Mary Jane Girls,
Magazine,
Brick,
John Cale,
The Toasters,
Jacques Brel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nick Fraelich,
Roxette,
Black Pus,
Deepchord,
Todd Terry,
Erykah Badu,
The Golliwogs,
The Pretty Things,
Bronski Beat,
Vladislav Delay,
Livin' Joy,
Metal Thangz,
Organ,
E-Dancer,
Henry Cow,
The Seeds,
The Associates,
Average White Band,
Pantytec,
The United States of America,
Kurtis Blow,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gap Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Sound,
Heaven 17,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Quantec,
Tim Buckley,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Human League,
ABC,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bauhaus,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sex Pistols,
JFA,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare,
Eddi Front,
Peter and Kerry,
The Star Department,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Television Personalities,
Joyce Sims,
Half Japanese,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.