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 Kyrgyzstan and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pierre Henry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Swell Maps,
The Sound,
Quando Quango,
Peter and Kerry,
Siglo XX,
Throbbing Gristle,
Country Teasers,
The Saints,
The Misunderstood,
Kerri Chandler,
the Slits,
The Music Machine,
New Order,
Panda Bear,
Lalann,
Quantec,
Warren Ellis,
Moby Grape,
Lower 48,
Barbara Tucker,
Saccharine Trust,
Sugar Minott,
Minor Threat,
Eric B and Rakim,
Parry Music,
Fad Gadget,
Dark Day,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ronnie Foster,
Kerrie Biddell,
Easy Going,
Piero Umiliani,
D'Angelo,
Ludus,
The Barracudas,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marc Almond,
Arthur Verocai,
Fear,
The Tremeloes,
The Fuzztones,
Tubeway Army,
Interpol,
Max Romeo,
Donny Hathaway,
Icehouse,
Pierre Henry,
Soul II Soul,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roy Ayers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harmonia,
The United States of America,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DNA,
Magma,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Minny Pops,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.