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 Ethiopia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 theremin 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 Basic Channel to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Christie,
Spandau Ballet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wolf Eyes,
Mars,
The Associates,
Theoretical Girls,
T.S.O.L.,
Mr. Review,
Qualms,
The Fugs,
Mo-Dettes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Fania All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dead Boys,
Alice Coltrane,
Wings,
Can,
UT,
Pharoah Sanders,
Oblivians,
Fela Kuti,
Jerry's Kids,
New Age Steppers,
Cecil Taylor,
Dorothy Ashby,
Avey Tare,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
OOIOO,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Letta Mbulu,
Kenny Larkin,
Ronnie Foster,
La Düsseldorf,
The Pretty Things,
The Misunderstood,
The Smoke,
Grauzone,
The Count Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Drexciya,
The Kinks,
Bang On A Can,
48th St. Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
The Knickerbockers,
The Doors,
Archie Shepp,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rakim,
the Sonics,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Procol Harum,
Agitation Free,
The Blackbyrds,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.