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 Bangladesh and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 John Cale to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
The Cramps,
Inner City,
Jeff Mills,
Agitation Free,
Man Eating Sloth,
Minor Threat,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kaleidoscope,
Urselle,
Pere Ubu,
Pantaleimon,
Gabor Szabo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nirvana,
Spandau Ballet,
Joyce Sims,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed,
The Durutti Column,
Eli Mardock,
Nation of Ulysses,
Basic Channel,
John Foxx,
Clear Light,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Blackbyrds,
Yazoo,
D'Angelo,
kango's stein massive,
Barry Ungar,
Sparks,
Eddi Front,
The Motions,
Albert Ayler,
Q65,
Derrick May,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Harry Pussy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boogie Down Productions,
Andrew Hill,
Nas,
Fad Gadget,
Trumans Water,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
The Black Dice,
Circle Jerks,
The Walker Brothers,
Avey Tare,
June of 44,
Bang On A Can,
The Music Machine,
Drexciya,
Ohio Players,
Frankie Knuckles,
Make Up,
Sound Behaviour,
Sugar Minott,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.