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 Malawi and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Severed Heads to the crunk 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Cymande,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Black Bananas,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Beau Brummels,
China Crisis,
the Human League,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kurtis Blow,
The Five Americans,
The Fall,
Outsiders,
Chris Corsano,
Ossler,
Swans,
Robert Görl,
Monolake,
Todd Rundgren,
Ituana,
Clear Light,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Amon Düül,
Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Prince Buster,
Metal Thangz,
The American Breed,
The Cramps,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dual Sessions,
The Searchers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Electric Prunes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sister Nancy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Pus,
Moby Grape,
Stereo Dub,
Scratch Acid,
Terry Callier,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Seeds,
Tears for Fears,
Pierre Henry,
Au Pairs,
Lou Reed,
Marshall Jefferson,
Q and Not U,
The Slackers,
Whodini,
John Coltrane,
Reagan Youth,
Yusef Lateef,
Loose Ends,
Section 25,
Joe Finger,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.