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 Guinea-Bissau and from Spokane.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Taipei.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Count Five to the electroclash 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Blancmange,
Pussy Galore,
Wings,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Toni Rubio,
The Five Americans,
Maurizio,
Popol Vuh,
Crime,
DJ Sneak,
The Alarm Clocks,
Heaven 17,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Trojans,
Yazoo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Grauzone,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Pus,
Rites of Spring,
Fela Kuti,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sparks,
Rod Modell,
Bobby Sherman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Schoolly D,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bang On A Can,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Offenders,
Robert Görl,
Harmonia,
Deadbeat,
Gang Green,
the Swans,
D'Angelo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kevin Saunderson,
DNA,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Pretty Things,
Alton Ellis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Franke,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultra Naté,
Pole,
Sam Rivers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Basic Channel,
Sarah Menescal,
Yusef Lateef,
Matthew Bourne,
Letta Mbulu,
The Searchers,
The Durutti Column,
Parry Music,
Dorothy Ashby,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.