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 New Zealand and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Mary Jane Girls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight 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?
The Residents,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
Chris & Cosey,
H. Thieme,
Pole,
The Buckinghams,
ABC,
One Last Wish,
Sonic Youth,
Neu!,
Rhythm & Sound,
Joensuu 1685,
Supertramp,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ken Boothe,
Kaleidoscope,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Peter & Gordon,
Bill Wells,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
Erasure,
Deadbeat,
Siglo XX,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rites of Spring,
Sex Pistols,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fad Gadget,
The Alarm Clocks,
Half Japanese,
The Velvet Underground,
Zapp,
Masters at Work,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Names,
Ultimate Spinach,
China Crisis,
Fugazi,
Boredoms,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Alton Ellis,
Ornette Coleman,
Monolake,
Gregory Isaacs,
New York Dolls,
Black Moon,
Bob Dylan,
Arab on Radar,
Q65,
Eric B and Rakim,
Robert Görl,
The Monks,
48th St. Collective,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Grey Daturas,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.