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 Tunisia and from Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Tommy Roe to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
Oneida,
The Names,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fear,
Marshall Jefferson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Flesh Eaters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Sound,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Todd Rundgren,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Wake,
The Doors,
the Fania All-Stars,
Juan Atkins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerri Chandler,
New Order,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Radio Birdman,
Prince Buster,
The Trojans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cluster,
Essential Logic,
New York Dolls,
Little Man,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Los Fastidios,
Dennis Brown,
Mantronix,
Talk Talk,
Yusef Lateef,
Donny Hathaway,
Visage,
Eric Copeland,
Schoolly D,
X-Ray Spex,
It's A Beautiful Day,
UT,
Reagan Youth,
Sixth Finger,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sight & Sound,
Joe Smooth,
Model 500,
Gichy Dan,
Scan 7,
Archie Shepp,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Chris Corsano,
The Monochrome Set,
The Saints,
Silicon Teens,
Radiohead,
JFA,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.