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 Azerbaijan and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Sparks 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
X-101,
Lou Reed,
The Residents,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mission of Burma,
Joyce Sims,
Black Bananas,
Mantronix,
Joensuu 1685,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
London Community Gospel Choir,
LL Cool J,
Spandau Ballet,
Arthur Verocai,
Rites of Spring,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Anakelly,
The Raincoats,
Blancmange,
Icehouse,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Morten Harket,
Q65,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Malaria!,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fat Boys,
Sam Rivers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jacob Miller,
The Doobie Brothers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Prunes,
Delta 5,
Mr. Review,
The Standells,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Clear Light,
David Axelrod,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Cure,
The Fall,
The Happenings,
Sun City Girls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joey Negro,
Heaven 17,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kerri Chandler,
The Velvet Underground,
Jandek,
Pierre Henry,
Hardrive,
Can,
Guru Guru,
Soft Machine,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.