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 Botswana and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Massinfluence,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mr. Review,
The New Christs,
Pussy Galore,
Severed Heads,
Scratch Acid,
Soulsonic Force,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pierre Henry,
A Certain Ratio,
Fad Gadget,
Newcleus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Circle Jerks,
Accadde A,
The Gun Club,
Banda Bassotti,
Nils Olav,
Dead Boys,
Black Sheep,
Deadbeat,
Sugar Minott,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hot Snakes,
Section 25,
The Divine Comedy,
Anakelly,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dawn Penn,
Terry Callier,
Bobby Womack,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Byrd,
Whodini,
Radiohead,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Slick Rick,
Amon Düül II,
Funkadelic,
In Retrospect,
Jerry's Kids,
Nik Kershaw,
Goldenarms,
Robert Hood,
Piero Umiliani,
Glenn Branca,
Malaria!,
Eric Copeland,
Avey Tare,
T. Rex,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joey Negro,
DJ Sneak,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barbara Tucker,
Au Pairs,
Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter.
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.