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 Lesotho 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Reagan Youth to the grunge 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Franke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Half Japanese,
Severed Heads,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brass Construction,
Young Marble Giants,
The Real Kids,
Unwound,
Glenn Branca,
Ituana,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yazoo,
K-Klass,
The Red Krayola,
Cymande,
The Doors,
Dawn Penn,
Ten City,
Black Moon,
Marcia Griffiths,
FM Einheit,
Ice-T,
Wally Richardson,
Y Pants,
The Selecter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pole,
Shoche,
Suburban Knight,
Juan Atkins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bad Manners,
Johnny Osbourne,
Johnny Clarke,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eden Ahbez,
Jawbox,
X-Ray Spex,
The Names,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hardrive,
Drexciya,
Supertramp,
China Crisis,
Nico,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Parry Music,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Last Poets,
Mandrill,
Skaos,
John Lydon,
The Knickerbockers,
Amon Düül II,
Moby Grape,
Make Up,
Tim Buckley,
The Leaves,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.