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 Portland.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Public Image Ltd. to the disco 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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bob Dylan,
Bang On A Can,
Sun Ra,
EPMD,
The Monks,
The Barracudas,
The Slits,
Suicide,
John Foxx,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bootsy Collins,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Sherman,
K-Klass,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Tom Boy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Accadde A,
Jacques Brel,
New Order,
Pylon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Absolute Body Control,
Todd Rundgren,
Infiniti,
The Litter,
Talk Talk,
The Toasters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gerry Rafferty,
Make Up,
Lebanon Hanover,
Masters at Work,
Guru Guru,
The Neon Judgement,
Slave,
Sixth Finger,
The Fire Engines,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Aswad,
Eden Ahbez,
Cluster,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Underground Resistance,
the Swans,
Marmalade,
Dave Gahan,
Crime,
Sound Behaviour,
DJ Sneak,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dead C,
Stetsasonic,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Seeds,
La Düsseldorf,
The Flesh Eaters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Whodini,
Heaven 17,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.