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 Israel and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Crooked Eye to the grunge 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
The Knickerbockers,
Wire,
Guru Guru,
Little Man,
Severed Heads,
Scientists,
Gabor Szabo,
Judy Mowatt,
David Axelrod,
Mars,
Clear Light,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Durutti Column,
Maleditus Sound,
Pussy Galore,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
CMW,
Gichy Dan,
The Selecter,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultravox,
Moebius,
John Holt,
Warsaw,
Kaleidoscope,
Arab on Radar,
Subhumans,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Monks,
Tom Boy,
Funky Four + One,
Magazine,
Robert Wyatt,
Alison Limerick,
The Residents,
The Skatalites,
Barclay James Harvest,
Harry Pussy,
Dual Sessions,
Gang Gang Dance,
L. Decosne,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Moss Icon,
Scan 7,
The Last Poets,
Panda Bear,
Cameo,
JFA,
Heaven 17,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Patti Smith,
Swans,
Crime,
These Immortal Souls,
The Angels of Light,
Buzzcocks,
Chris & Cosey,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.