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 Georgia and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crooked Eye to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Drexciya,
Glenn Branca,
Eden Ahbez,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Accadde A,
Fear,
Deadbeat,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amon Düül,
Davy DMX,
Cluster,
Arcadia,
The Searchers,
Bill Wells,
Scratch Acid,
Parry Music,
Mantronix,
Eli Mardock,
The Velvet Underground,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stockholm Monsters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Don Cherry,
Talk Talk,
Lyres,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bob Dylan,
Y Pants,
Wire,
The Doors,
Robert Wyatt,
DNA,
A Certain Ratio,
Bill Near,
John Coltrane,
Carl Craig,
Thee Headcoats,
Cymande,
The Invisible,
Charles Mingus,
Model 500,
Magma,
X-101,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fad Gadget,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Association,
June Days,
Bobby Byrd,
Quantec,
Neil Young,
Robert Görl,
New York Dolls,
The Busters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.