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 Andorra and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Idris Muhammad to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Sex Pistols,
Average White Band,
Au Pairs,
The Velvet Underground,
H. Thieme,
Porter Ricks,
R.M.O.,
Franke,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Excepter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
Andrew Hill,
Kurtis Blow,
Donald Byrd,
Soft Machine,
Sam Rivers,
The Neon Judgement,
Cluster,
Bauhaus,
The Red Krayola,
Nico,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
This Heat,
Basic Channel,
Royal Trux,
Sparks,
La Düsseldorf,
Scott Walker,
Inner City,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rod Modell,
Patti Smith,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Don Cherry,
OOIOO,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Moon,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
Gil Scott Heron,
Michelle Simonal,
Todd Rundgren,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Parry Music,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tom Boy,
F. McDonald,
Pierre Henry,
Marine Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
Kerri Chandler,
Iggy Pop,
Banda Bassotti,
Los Fastidios,
The Slackers,
Unrelated Segments,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.