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 Cambodia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin 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 David Bowie to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Young Marble Giants,
DNA,
Ronan,
Blancmange,
The Stooges,
Mandrill,
Scientists,
Idris Muhammad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Peter and Kerry,
cv313,
Skarface,
Derrick May,
Alton Ellis,
Ituana,
Dual Sessions,
The Cowsills,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Henry Cow,
The Monks,
Organ,
Soulsonic Force,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Leonard Cohen,
Warsaw,
Roy Ayers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Matthew Bourne,
Cecil Taylor,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Steve Hackett,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pussy Galore,
Lightning Bolt,
The Doors,
Swans,
The Real Kids,
Radio Birdman,
Youth Brigade,
Howard Jones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Starr,
Wolf Eyes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Blake Baxter,
Blossom Toes,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Vogues,
The Slackers,
John Lydon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Urselle,
Sonic Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Bang On A Can,
Sound Behaviour,
Quadrant,
Wings,
The Slits,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.