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 Romania and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Todd Terry,
D'Angelo,
Pierre Henry,
Barry Ungar,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pere Ubu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Model 500,
Yazoo,
Unwound,
Rotary Connection,
World's Most,
The Divine Comedy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Boredoms,
Todd Rundgren,
Rapeman,
Symarip,
Cluster,
The Real Kids,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roger Hodgson,
Rites of Spring,
Ossler,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Television Personalities,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Skatalites,
FM Einheit,
Arab on Radar,
Drexciya,
Soft Machine,
Lebanon Hanover,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
PIL,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jerry's Kids,
Public Enemy,
The Misunderstood,
Blossom Toes,
Faraquet,
Scratch Acid,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Spoonie Gee,
Circle Jerks,
Sixth Finger,
Country Teasers,
Von Mondo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marvin Gaye,
Magma,
Grandmaster Flash,
Slave,
Ituana,
Soulsonic Force,
Subhumans,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.