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 Iraq and from Taipei.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lalann to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Archie Shepp,
China Crisis,
Shuggie Otis,
The Gun Club,
Glenn Branca,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Reuben Wilson,
Severed Heads,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Trojans,
Los Fastidios,
Boz Scaggs,
Deadbeat,
Can,
The Music Machine,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ice-T,
Lakeside,
the Swans,
Malaria!,
Gabor Szabo,
Television Personalities,
Marmalade,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Visage,
UT,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Infiniti,
Swans,
FM Einheit,
The Residents,
PIL,
Connie Case,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Banda Bassotti,
The Moleskins,
the Germs,
Heaven 17,
Black Moon,
Chrome,
Wire,
Chris & Cosey,
Franke,
Judy Mowatt,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Knickerbockers,
Neu!,
Newcleus,
Quadrant,
The Saints,
Monolake,
Whodini,
Ronan,
New Age Steppers,
The Dead C,
Livin' Joy,
Toni Rubio,
The Remains,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.