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 Ghana and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Terry Callier to the crunk 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jawbox,
Kayak,
Morten Harket,
Lou Christie,
Sugar Minott,
B.T. Express,
Connie Case,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
Amon Düül II,
Amon Düül,
Scott Walker,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sonic Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerri Chandler,
Spandau Ballet,
The Busters,
Rites of Spring,
Easy Going,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Moebius,
Index,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Remains,
The Cramps,
the Swans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Model 500,
The Gladiators,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris Corsano,
The Golliwogs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rekid,
China Crisis,
Skriet,
H. Thieme,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yaz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Byron Stingily,
Pierre Henry,
Pharoah Sanders,
ABC,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eden Ahbez,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobby Byrd,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
K-Klass,
Severed Heads,
Barry Ungar,
The Offenders,
Unrelated Segments,
The Blackbyrds,
Pantaleimon,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.