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 Congo and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light 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?
Reagan Youth,
Pole,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amon Düül,
KRS-One,
The Real Kids,
The Zeros,
The Buckinghams,
Steve Hackett,
Franke,
Pylon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Neon Judgement,
the Normal,
Terry Callier,
48th St. Collective,
Magma,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Last Poets,
Siglo XX,
Bush Tetras,
Loose Ends,
Jerry's Kids,
Oneida,
Quadrant,
Groovy Waters,
Sparks,
Smog,
Crooked Eye,
Lower 48,
MC5,
Gang Green,
Michelle Simonal,
Bauhaus,
Fatback Band,
Roy Ayers,
Derrick May,
10cc,
Marshall Jefferson,
Zapp,
The Beau Brummels,
Hot Snakes,
Shoche,
Little Man,
Clear Light,
Pharoah Sanders,
PIL,
Von Mondo,
The Angels of Light,
ABBA,
Pierre Henry,
Dave Gahan,
Masters at Work,
Terrestrial Tones,
Erykah Badu,
Rites of Spring,
Thee Headcoats,
Junior Murvin,
This Heat,
Chris & Cosey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.