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 Togo and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joy Division,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Stooges,
Ralphi Rosario,
X-101,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cal Tjader,
Jandek,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Interpol,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Pus,
The Doors,
The Busters,
Mr. Review,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Names,
Con Funk Shun,
Scrapy,
The Kinks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Public Enemy,
the Slits,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quadrant,
The Fortunes,
Ronnie Foster,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Wasted Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Warren Ellis,
Peter and Kerry,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soft Cell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
KRS-One,
The Velvet Underground,
The Doobie Brothers,
Idris Muhammad,
Nik Kershaw,
Max Romeo,
Neu!,
Desert Stars,
The Offenders,
Unwound,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scientists,
Symarip,
Radiohead,
Robert Wyatt,
Nico,
Lou Reed,
The Modern Lovers,
Maurizio,
Boredoms,
Darondo,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.