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 Peru and from London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the rap 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Ultravox,
Roxette,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Davy DMX,
Electric Prunes,
Jandek,
Lower 48,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joey Negro,
Fear,
Pylon,
The Tremeloes,
MDC,
DJ Sneak,
Roxy Music,
The Searchers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Underground Resistance,
China Crisis,
the Swans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Siglo XX,
Don Cherry,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Outsiders,
The Alarm Clocks,
Index,
Marvin Gaye,
Dead Boys,
David McCallum,
Niagra,
Swell Maps,
Ornette Coleman,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Technova,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dave Clark Five,
B.T. Express,
Whodini,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scion,
Hoover,
The Toasters,
Juan Atkins,
The Standells,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultra Naté,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dave Gahan,
Hasil Adkins,
Theoretical Girls,
Morten Harket,
Dawn Penn,
Magma,
Chris Corsano,
Gong,
Moby Grape,
FM Einheit,
David Axelrod,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.