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 Yemen and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe 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 Neil Young to the electroclash 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Colin Newman,
Procol Harum,
Robert Görl,
the Normal,
Curtis Mayfield,
Essential Logic,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Matthew Halsall,
Monolake,
Das Ding,
Oneida,
X-102,
Minutemen,
48th St. Collective,
The Count Five,
The New Christs,
Donny Hathaway,
Fugazi,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Audionom,
The Sonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
Saccharine Trust,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
D'Angelo,
Tim Buckley,
Black Bananas,
the Soft Cell,
John Cale,
kango's stein massive,
Robert Hood,
The Pop Group,
Glambeats Corp.,
X-101,
The Techniques,
The Dead C,
Hot Snakes,
Silicon Teens,
Derrick Morgan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Au Pairs,
John Holt,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Barrington Levy,
New Age Steppers,
Rites of Spring,
The Blackbyrds,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Easy Going,
Malaria!,
The Gun Club,
Althea and Donna,
The Moody Blues,
Ohio Players,
Aaron Thompson,
Camberwell Now,
Ten City,
Half Japanese,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.