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 Papua New Guinea and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 8 Eyed Spy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Motorama,
Pantaleimon,
Siglo XX,
Boredoms,
Zapp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Malaria!,
Jeru the Damaja,
Boogie Down Productions,
China Crisis,
Angry Samoans,
Chrome,
Brick,
Charles Mingus,
Nico,
Lalann,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Alphaville,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Joy Division,
Dead Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
James White and The Blacks,
Tomorrow,
The Residents,
Lou Reed,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Michelle Simonal,
Essential Logic,
Minor Threat,
Ituana,
Stetsasonic,
The Standells,
New Age Steppers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Absolute Body Control,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cluster,
Alison Limerick,
The Toasters,
Banda Bassotti,
The Golliwogs,
Skaos,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pussy Galore,
The Misunderstood,
The Durutti Column,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pagans,
The Offenders,
The Moleskins,
Susan Cadogan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Japan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cecil Taylor,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.