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 Algeria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 F. McDonald to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Reagan Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
The Gories,
Henry Cow,
Aswad,
MDC,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Divine Comedy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Maleditus Sound,
Magma,
Inner City,
Wally Richardson,
The Music Machine,
This Heat,
Ultra Naté,
Hot Snakes,
L. Decosne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Bauhaus,
Unrelated Segments,
Nils Olav,
Lungfish,
Warren Ellis,
The Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Bananas,
Junior Murvin,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eli Mardock,
Sun Ra,
Trumans Water,
X-101,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Darondo,
The Monks,
Nirvana,
Suicide,
Simply Red,
ABC,
Derrick May,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rotary Connection,
Amazonics,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crash Course in Science,
U.S. Maple,
Bang On A Can,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gang Starr,
The Searchers,
Mantronix,
Wire,
Oblivians,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.