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 Tuvalu and from Glasgow.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 Wolf Eyes to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
Alice Coltrane,
Unwound,
Cal Tjader,
Wally Richardson,
The Searchers,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Residents,
Hardrive,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pagans,
Pylon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sight & Sound,
Joy Division,
Pantytec,
The Slackers,
Radio Birdman,
Stockholm Monsters,
Iggy Pop,
Visage,
Nick Fraelich,
Pole,
Surgeon,
Bush Tetras,
Minor Threat,
Saccharine Trust,
The Beau Brummels,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Country Teasers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boz Scaggs,
Smog,
Spandau Ballet,
New Age Steppers,
Rites of Spring,
Black Moon,
Main Source,
Anthony Braxton,
Neil Young,
Todd Rundgren,
The Birthday Party,
Tomorrow,
Hot Snakes,
Joyce Sims,
Josef K,
Wasted Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q and Not U,
Blake Baxter,
The Invisible,
The Moleskins,
Gang Green,
The Star Department,
Au Pairs,
Fluxion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Max Romeo,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.