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 Ukraine and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 a-ha to the funk 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
These Immortal Souls,
The Raincoats,
Arab on Radar,
Pantaleimon,
The Fortunes,
Mars,
Albert Ayler,
Basic Channel,
Marvin Gaye,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Byron Stingily,
The J.B.'s,
the Germs,
Babytalk,
Q and Not U,
Matthew Bourne,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Erykah Badu,
Bob Dylan,
X-Ray Spex,
Tom Boy,
Lucky Dragons,
E-Dancer,
Pantytec,
Black Pus,
The Tremeloes,
Moby Grape,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cybotron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Slave,
Bang On A Can,
Terry Callier,
Crash Course in Science,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rod Modell,
Wire,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scion,
The Knickerbockers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Residents,
Sonic Youth,
Royal Trux,
Minnie Riperton,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mark Hollis,
Q65,
The Music Machine,
cv313,
The Monks,
Liliput,
Jesper Dahlback,
Public Image Ltd.,
OOIOO,
Todd Rundgren,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.