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 Switzerland and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Monks to the grime 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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Magazine,
The Gun Club,
Parry Music,
Outsiders,
John Holt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pole,
Nas,
Stetsasonic,
Leonard Cohen,
Bang On A Can,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Sound,
Crooked Eye,
The Martian,
Minor Threat,
U.S. Maple,
Alice Coltrane,
the Association,
LL Cool J,
Radio Birdman,
La Düsseldorf,
Soul II Soul,
MC5,
In Retrospect,
Con Funk Shun,
the Bar-Kays,
Yusef Lateef,
Pere Ubu,
The Moody Blues,
Yellowson,
Sonic Youth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Massinfluence,
Moebius,
Whodini,
Zero Boys,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Moon,
Joensuu 1685,
Nick Fraelich,
Danielle Patucci,
Surgeon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Harmonia,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joe Smooth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nico,
Black Pus,
The Last Poets,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Franke,
World's Most,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ken Boothe,
The Neon Judgement,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.