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 Finland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sonics to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roger Hodgson,
James White and The Blacks,
Von Mondo,
Scan 7,
Matthew Halsall,
John Foxx,
Bob Dylan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scott Walker,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Moon,
Technova,
Motorama,
Ice-T,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gories,
Eddi Front,
Tim Buckley,
F. McDonald,
Mandrill,
Slick Rick,
Aural Exciters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pole,
The Selecter,
The Raincoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rakim,
Zapp,
Harpers Bizarre,
These Immortal Souls,
Fear,
Laurel Aitken,
Vladislav Delay,
Connie Case,
Monks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mojo Men,
Duran Duran,
In Retrospect,
Electric Prunes,
Ituana,
China Crisis,
Swell Maps,
The Sonics,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sonic Youth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Funky Four + One,
The Star Department,
Delon & Dalcan,
a-ha,
Mary Jane Girls,
Faust,
Can,
Bad Manners,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Germs,
Thee Headcoats,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.