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 Senegal 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blues Magoos to the grunge 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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Junior Murvin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dave Gahan,
Oblivians,
the Human League,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric Copeland,
Scientists,
Radiohead,
Circle Jerks,
The Mummies,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Trojans,
New Order,
Barclay James Harvest,
Traffic Nightmare,
China Crisis,
Flipper,
OOIOO,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gun Club,
Pylon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Robert Hood,
The Leaves,
Spandau Ballet,
Sonic Youth,
Urselle,
Procol Harum,
Bush Tetras,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marmalade,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Half Japanese,
Idris Muhammad,
Amazonics,
Lightning Bolt,
Electric Prunes,
Oneida,
Sugar Minott,
Crooked Eye,
Average White Band,
The Tremeloes,
Camouflage,
Deadbeat,
Fat Boys,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Erykah Badu,
Eddi Front,
The Fugs,
Mars,
Quadrant,
The Smiths,
Can,
Monks,
Qualms,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.