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 Guinea and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Davy DMX 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Max Romeo,
Make Up,
Hasil Adkins,
Pierre Henry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Quadrant,
Interpol,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Barracudas,
Cameo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Young Marble Giants,
Can,
Parry Music,
Banda Bassotti,
Shuggie Otis,
Sex Pistols,
Oblivians,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Glenn Branca,
Chrome,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Machine,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Flash Fearless,
Amon Düül,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Mummies,
Joe Finger,
The Golliwogs,
The Vogues,
Piero Umiliani,
The Kinks,
Aural Exciters,
Brick,
Siglo XX,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Dirtbombs,
The Seeds,
Marcia Griffiths,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moss Icon,
Darondo,
Bronski Beat,
Reuben Wilson,
Sight & Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Holt,
New Age Steppers,
Gabor Szabo,
Adolescents,
The Moleskins,
Alice Coltrane,
Loose Ends,
Bizarre Inc.,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Normal,
Todd Terry,
Pagans,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.