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 Thailand and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 clarinet 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 Peter & Gordon to the jazz 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners 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 electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Avey Tare,
The Remains,
Grauzone,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Byron Stingily,
Joe Finger,
Easy Going,
The Tremeloes,
Monks,
The Star Department,
Model 500,
The Modern Lovers,
The Associates,
Todd Rundgren,
Throbbing Gristle,
Infiniti,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pussy Galore,
Isaac Hayes,
ABBA,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Absolute Body Control,
Brass Construction,
Radio Birdman,
Alison Limerick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Amazonics,
Jerry Gold Smith,
James White and The Blacks,
Thompson Twins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cheater Slicks,
Anakelly,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Stereo Dub,
Dead Boys,
Eric Copeland,
The Alarm Clocks,
The American Breed,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobby Sherman,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxette,
Deepchord,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bill Wells,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
June of 44,
Joe Smooth,
Livin' Joy,
Barrington Levy,
The United States of America,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
These Immortal Souls,
Television Personalities,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sam Rivers,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cowsills,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.