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 Finland and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare 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 Glambeats Corp. to the grunge 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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fugazi,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeff Mills,
James White and The Blacks,
Alphaville,
Wasted Youth,
The Five Americans,
The Modern Lovers,
Frankie Knuckles,
R.M.O.,
June of 44,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erasure,
Alison Limerick,
Yellowson,
Kenny Larkin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Man Parrish,
Country Teasers,
Eve St. Jones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lightning Bolt,
Sister Nancy,
Roxette,
June Days,
Gang Starr,
Harry Pussy,
Eden Ahbez,
T. Rex,
Unwound,
Eurythmics,
Joe Finger,
Second Layer,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Toni Rubio,
Panda Bear,
Erykah Badu,
Bush Tetras,
Tim Buckley,
Michelle Simonal,
The Techniques,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Byrd,
Ash Ra Tempel,
H. Thieme,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minny Pops,
Con Funk Shun,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Echospace,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arthur Verocai,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dead Boys,
Newcleus,
Mission of Burma,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.