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 Azerbaijan and from Hong Kong.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sex Pistols to the rock 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Donald Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Seeds,
Colin Newman,
Deadbeat,
Icehouse,
June of 44,
T. Rex,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ronan,
Laurel Aitken,
Metal Thangz,
The Music Machine,
Fatback Band,
The Real Kids,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-102,
Lightning Bolt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Moody Blues,
Swell Maps,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
The Misunderstood,
The Neon Judgement,
Sex Pistols,
The Fall,
Bronski Beat,
Popol Vuh,
Dual Sessions,
Lower 48,
Fluxion,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Five Americans,
Aswad,
Sun City Girls,
Guru Guru,
Youth Brigade,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Boogie Down Productions,
Panda Bear,
The Motions,
The Toasters,
Gang of Four,
Roy Ayers,
Arcadia,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Carl Craig,
Swans,
The Fortunes,
Buzzcocks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Steve Hackett,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.