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 Taiwan and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Blake Baxter to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Grass Roots,
Albert Ayler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fall,
Curtis Mayfield,
Skaos,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The J.B.'s,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cluster,
Index,
Suicide,
KRS-One,
Swans,
Jacob Miller,
Hot Snakes,
Flash Fearless,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti,
The Searchers,
the Slits,
Sällskapet,
Lindisfarne,
Unwound,
The Knickerbockers,
a-ha,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brand Nubian,
Mad Mike,
Danielle Patucci,
Slick Rick,
Basic Channel,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Alice Coltrane,
Zero Boys,
Monolake,
The Pretty Things,
LL Cool J,
Graham Central Station,
Amon Düül II,
Jesper Dahlback,
Stockholm Monsters,
Magazine,
Jeru the Damaja,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mission of Burma,
Wasted Youth,
Cecil Taylor,
Main Source,
The Cure,
Blancmange,
L. Decosne,
Royal Trux,
Das Ding,
Kevin Saunderson,
ABC,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Swans,
Jawbox,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.