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 Bahrain and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Brand Nubian,
Tres Demented,
Pagans,
Blancmange,
Hoover,
Vainqueur,
June Days,
The Kinks,
Absolute Body Control,
Dark Day,
Harry Pussy,
These Immortal Souls,
Harmonia,
Sam Rivers,
Gong,
Rotary Connection,
Barry Ungar,
Blake Baxter,
Lyres,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ohio Players,
The Monochrome Set,
The Techniques,
Scientists,
China Crisis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Womack,
Moby Grape,
Warren Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June of 44,
Tommy Roe,
Saccharine Trust,
Bizarre Inc.,
Soft Machine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rakim,
The Vogues,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Bananas,
The Sound,
Eurythmics,
The Smoke,
Eric Dolphy,
Infiniti,
The Real Kids,
Yellowson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mission of Burma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dorothy Ashby,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Clear Light,
ABC,
Henry Cow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Smiths,
Neu!,
Dawn Penn,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.