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 Uganda and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Holger Czukay 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bang On A Can,
In Retrospect,
Oblivians,
John Coltrane,
The Monks,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Fania All-Stars,
AZ,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Index,
Jeff Lynne,
Avey Tare,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scrapy,
Matthew Bourne,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Clear Light,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Prince Buster,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bootsy Collins,
ABC,
UT,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bluetip,
Henry Cow,
Connie Case,
Shuggie Otis,
Susan Cadogan,
Excepter,
Mad Mike,
DNA,
Sam Rivers,
Barrington Levy,
Bill Near,
Letta Mbulu,
Chrome,
Yusef Lateef,
John Holt,
Derrick May,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bronski Beat,
U.S. Maple,
Alice Coltrane,
Bizarre Inc.,
Stiv Bators,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cramps,
Charles Mingus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eli Mardock,
the Bar-Kays,
Qualms,
John Lydon,
K-Klass,
The Stooges,
X-102,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.