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 Portugal and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Fuzztones to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
B.T. Express,
Lindisfarne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Star Department,
Blancmange,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Erykah Badu,
Jawbox,
Gastr Del Sol,
Excepter,
Ituana,
Sugar Minott,
Bang On A Can,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Swell Maps,
Eurythmics,
Marc Almond,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sam Rivers,
Lightning Bolt,
Nick Fraelich,
Mission of Burma,
Fugazi,
Joe Smooth,
Q and Not U,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cure,
June of 44,
Alice Coltrane,
Buzzcocks,
Crime,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fall,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pole,
Section 25,
Amon Düül,
Angry Samoans,
Black Sheep,
Hot Snakes,
a-ha,
Howard Jones,
The Neon Judgement,
The Angels of Light,
Soft Machine,
Siglo XX,
Sexual Harrassment,
Qualms,
Lakeside,
The Searchers,
The Divine Comedy,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Durutti Column,
The Zeros,
Peter & Gordon,
Black Bananas,
MDC,
Mandrill,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Zapp,
Porter Ricks,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.