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 Ivory Coast and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Wire to the jazz 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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald 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?
Scrapy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Last Poets,
EPMD,
Harpers Bizarre,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Reagan Youth,
Glenn Branca,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Derrick Morgan,
the Swans,
Lyres,
Franke,
AZ,
Rekid,
Jawbox,
Bad Manners,
The Names,
Intrusion,
David McCallum,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Flag,
Dual Sessions,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jerry's Kids,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nik Kershaw,
Charles Mingus,
Lindisfarne,
Main Source,
Bootsy Collins,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Busters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Albert Ayler,
Second Layer,
X-101,
Gang Starr,
Fugazi,
Godley & Creme,
Peter & Gordon,
The Remains,
Lucky Dragons,
Roxette,
The Fortunes,
Eurythmics,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dead Boys,
Arthur Verocai,
Scratch Acid,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Neon Judgement,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dawn Penn,
This Heat,
Brothers Johnson,
Janne Schatter,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.