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 Turkmenistan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the rock 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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Faust,
The Human League,
Rekid,
Aaron Thompson,
Archie Shepp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jandek,
Pere Ubu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Count Five,
Suicide,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Litter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Clear Light,
Mantronix,
Maleditus Sound,
Ponytail,
Urselle,
Kenny Larkin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Make Up,
Popol Vuh,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minny Pops,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pulsallama,
DJ Sneak,
The Offenders,
Marine Girls,
Gang of Four,
Patti Smith,
Johnny Osbourne,
Grey Daturas,
Prince Buster,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Standells,
Liliput,
June Days,
Mr. Review,
Soft Machine,
Darondo,
Joe Smooth,
Mission of Burma,
the Swans,
New Order,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kas Product,
John Foxx,
Animal Collective,
Iggy Pop,
The Cramps,
David McCallum,
Graham Central Station,
Lou Reed,
Blake Baxter,
Rosa Yemen,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.