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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Bremen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Matthew Bourne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive,
Main Source,
The Residents,
Alison Limerick,
Man Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
Flash Fearless,
Hoover,
Morten Harket,
Simply Red,
Aaron Thompson,
Jacques Brel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bob Dylan,
Amon Düül II,
Rekid,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wasted Youth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mantronix,
Pylon,
Franke,
The Birthday Party,
Neu!,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Standells,
Bush Tetras,
Public Image Ltd.,
Siglo XX,
AZ,
Mary Jane Girls,
Yazoo,
Agent Orange,
Toni Rubio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deakin,
Goldenarms,
Anakelly,
Jeru the Damaja,
DJ Sneak,
Robert Görl,
June of 44,
Howard Jones,
Swans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lalo Schifrin,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pierre Henry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Index,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Motions,
Don Cherry,
Chrome,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.