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 Suriname and from Tokyo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Zapp,
Sparks,
The Electric Prunes,
X-102,
Brothers Johnson,
Blancmange,
Dead Boys,
The Wake,
Bill Near,
Scott Walker,
kango's stein massive,
The Dirtbombs,
Cybotron,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joe Finger,
Davy DMX,
The Sonics,
Negative Approach,
Juan Atkins,
Los Fastidios,
Severed Heads,
The Count Five,
Glenn Branca,
Bob Dylan,
Average White Band,
Excepter,
DNA,
New York Dolls,
Donald Byrd,
Scrapy,
Black Flag,
Jandek,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mr. Review,
Eden Ahbez,
Nirvana,
Josef K,
Sun City Girls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tom Boy,
Alice Coltrane,
Yazoo,
Half Japanese,
Rosa Yemen,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott Heron,
Magma,
Kas Product,
Sun Ra,
EPMD,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bobby Sherman,
Von Mondo,
The Gladiators,
The Knickerbockers,
Trumans Water,
Rakim,
China Crisis,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.