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 Greece and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ 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 Black Moon to the punk 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cowsills,
Stereo Dub,
Cal Tjader,
The Gories,
Camouflage,
Arthur Verocai,
The Beau Brummels,
Robert Hood,
Cymande,
The J.B.'s,
One Last Wish,
Little Man,
Von Mondo,
Marine Girls,
Suicide,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Pus,
The Star Department,
Idris Muhammad,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Moleskins,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Janne Schatter,
The Trojans,
The Red Krayola,
10cc,
Stetsasonic,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nick Fraelich,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fall,
Piero Umiliani,
Dave Gahan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skarface,
K-Klass,
Blossom Toes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sister Nancy,
Bauhaus,
Tim Buckley,
The Black Dice,
Gichy Dan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Alton Ellis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pantytec,
Stiv Bators,
Rites of Spring,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mars,
Bill Wells,
The Mojo Men,
Reuben Wilson,
The Walker Brothers,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.