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 France and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Intrusion to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Graham Central Station,
The Names,
Jerry's Kids,
The Saints,
The Grass Roots,
cv313,
ABBA,
a-ha,
E-Dancer,
Suicide,
Japan,
Arthur Verocai,
the Human League,
Soft Cell,
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Sonics,
Fluxion,
Rufus Thomas,
UT,
Agitation Free,
Joe Finger,
Joey Negro,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Essential Logic,
Blossom Toes,
Hot Snakes,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Mojo Men,
Warsaw,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Association,
Joyce Sims,
Don Cherry,
Von Mondo,
Echospace,
Sparks,
Jacob Miller,
Ultra Naté,
Rapeman,
Cheater Slicks,
Index,
Lou Christie,
Newcleus,
Ken Boothe,
Henry Cow,
The Black Dice,
Sugar Minott,
Aaron Thompson,
Sex Pistols,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Walker Brothers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nico,
Rites of Spring,
Alphaville,
Underground Resistance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Max Romeo,
Anthony Braxton,
Fela Kuti,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.