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 Panama and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Hoover to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Mandrill,
Oblivians,
The Monks,
Franke,
Soulsonic Force,
Altered Images,
Chris & Cosey,
One Last Wish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delta 5,
The Dirtbombs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Monks,
Charles Mingus,
Rufus Thomas,
The American Breed,
China Crisis,
Sarah Menescal,
The Victims,
T. Rex,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
New Age Steppers,
Black Pus,
Warsaw,
The Smoke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pierre Henry,
Ohio Players,
Depeche Mode,
Roxette,
Schoolly D,
Derrick May,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lebanon Hanover,
Johnny Clarke,
Jacob Miller,
Todd Rundgren,
Tropical Tobacco,
In Retrospect,
The Mojo Men,
U.S. Maple,
Talk Talk,
Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Max Romeo,
Tears for Fears,
Procol Harum,
The Standells,
Anakelly,
Heaven 17,
the Sonics,
Visage,
ABC,
Neu!,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gap Band,
Nas,
Neil Young,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.