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 Lesotho and from New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Wasted Youth to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kas Product record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Black Bananas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jandek,
Cecil Taylor,
Janne Schatter,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Move,
48th St. Collective,
T. Rex,
Young Marble Giants,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rhythm & Sound,
MDC,
The Electric Prunes,
Boz Scaggs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Japan,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Smiths,
The Searchers,
Bauhaus,
Organ,
Davy DMX,
The Gories,
The Stooges,
X-102,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Chrome,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott Heron,
ABC,
Sonny Sharrock,
Symarip,
Glenn Branca,
Mad Mike,
Rekid,
The Blackbyrds,
Sandy B,
Fear,
Kaleidoscope,
Junior Murvin,
Siglo XX,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
This Heat,
Al Stewart,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Thee Headcoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pylon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Radiopuhelimet,
DNA,
Desert Stars,
Nils Olav,
Khruangbin,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.