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 Lebanon and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
OOIOO,
The Residents,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
The Red Krayola,
Henry Cow,
Circle Jerks,
Piero Umiliani,
Magazine,
Junior Murvin,
FM Einheit,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Soft Cell,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Velvet Underground,
The Monochrome Set,
The Dead C,
Jacob Miller,
Television Personalities,
Barry Ungar,
Unrelated Segments,
Subhumans,
The Divine Comedy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nick Fraelich,
The Slackers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Slits,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Supertramp,
Hashim,
R.M.O.,
The Searchers,
Scion,
Josef K,
Janne Schatter,
Flipper,
Inner City,
Black Sheep,
The Fugs,
Yellowson,
Swell Maps,
Don Cherry,
Von Mondo,
The Wake,
Adolescents,
Visage,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lindisfarne,
the Association,
Reagan Youth,
Severed Heads,
Magma,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gories,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.