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 Paraguay and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Oneida to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Second Layer,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Flesh Eaters,
DJ Sneak,
Banda Bassotti,
The Human League,
Severed Heads,
Surgeon,
The Electric Prunes,
Ponytail,
Boz Scaggs,
Nico,
Moss Icon,
Crispy Ambulance,
FM Einheit,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Busters,
Country Teasers,
Kaleidoscope,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Michelle Simonal,
the Sonics,
Lakeside,
Fad Gadget,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Swans,
Marc Almond,
Suicide,
MC5,
Can,
Girls At Our Best!,
Porter Ricks,
Jawbox,
Bluetip,
Tomorrow,
Ken Boothe,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Pretty Things,
Yellowson,
Zapp,
The United States of America,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Swans,
The Real Kids,
Amazonics,
The Smoke,
Pussy Galore,
R.M.O.,
Icehouse,
Terry Callier,
Y Pants,
Shuggie Otis,
Scientists,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nils Olav,
Marshall Jefferson,
Donny Hathaway,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Whodini,
Colin Newman,
Black Bananas,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.