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 Azerbaijan and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes 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 Invisible to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Kevin Saunderson,
Crooked Eye,
Jerry's Kids,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bill Wells,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Bananas,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joey Negro,
Duran Duran,
Royal Trux,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pole,
Marshall Jefferson,
Derrick May,
Oblivians,
DJ Sneak,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rekid,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cowsills,
Arthur Verocai,
Maurizio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Das Ding,
John Coltrane,
Junior Murvin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kerri Chandler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Silicon Teens,
Pantaleimon,
The Golliwogs,
Depeche Mode,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nick Fraelich,
H. Thieme,
Shuggie Otis,
Oneida,
Pet Shop Boys,
Moebius,
Sun City Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Los Fastidios,
The Barracudas,
Crime,
Bronski Beat,
the Human League,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fat Boys,
Bang On A Can,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dennis Brown,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Black Flag,
Roxy Music,
Bauhaus,
The Residents,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.