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 Mauritius and from New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Blackbyrds to the jazz 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Spoonie Gee,
FM Einheit,
Lou Christie,
John Foxx,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jacques Brel,
Icehouse,
Jeff Lynne,
Joe Smooth,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Star Department,
Can,
Tubeway Army,
Schoolly D,
Brass Construction,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marc Almond,
Lungfish,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barrington Levy,
The Move,
Suburban Knight,
Lyres,
Barry Ungar,
The Mojo Men,
Moss Icon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Soft Cell,
Ludus,
Sandy B,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fela Kuti,
Ronnie Foster,
Eddi Front,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Vogues,
Iggy Pop,
The Grass Roots,
Dennis Brown,
Skriet,
The Standells,
China Crisis,
Camouflage,
Leonard Cohen,
Animal Collective,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Monks,
The Buckinghams,
Donald Byrd,
Freddie Wadling,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
The Victims,
Brothers Johnson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Make Up,
The Blues Magoos,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.