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 Dominican Republic 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet 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 Laurel Aitken to the grime 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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
The Cowsills,
The Mummies,
B.T. Express,
Blake Baxter,
Soft Cell,
Unrelated Segments,
Buzzcocks,
Wasted Youth,
New York Dolls,
Fatback Band,
Intrusion,
FM Einheit,
The Names,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pussy Galore,
Technova,
Brass Construction,
The Gories,
Outsiders,
Rosa Yemen,
Sparks,
Sister Nancy,
Bootsy Collins,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Human League,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mars,
The Modern Lovers,
Drexciya,
Scott Walker,
Rekid,
Fela Kuti,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
Heaven 17,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roxette,
The Victims,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Evens,
Marmalade,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Grass Roots,
The Seeds,
Bobby Byrd,
Guru Guru,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aaron Thompson,
10cc,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
Main Source,
Sun City Girls,
Alphaville,
Faust,
Joey Negro,
Ohio Players,
DJ Style,
Cal Tjader,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.