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 Barbados and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Skaos,
Black Flag,
Camberwell Now,
48th St. Collective,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mo-Dettes,
Sixth Finger,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Radiohead,
the Bar-Kays,
Lightning Bolt,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Names,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pere Ubu,
Make Up,
Ludus,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rufus Thomas,
Trumans Water,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ice-T,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Real Kids,
Sound Behaviour,
The Move,
Cymande,
Brothers Johnson,
David McCallum,
Dark Day,
The Grass Roots,
Smog,
Sällskapet,
Easy Going,
Connie Case,
Circle Jerks,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül II,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fuzztones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Archie Shepp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Adolescents,
Con Funk Shun,
Lindisfarne,
Sister Nancy,
Black Pus,
Boz Scaggs,
The Modern Lovers,
Michelle Simonal,
Rakim,
Aloha Tigers,
Eli Mardock,
Gabor Szabo,
D'Angelo,
The Knickerbockers,
Minny Pops,
Roy Ayers,
John Cale,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.