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 Ireland and from Delhi.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare 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 X-102 to the crunk 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
In Retrospect,
Radio Birdman,
Hot Snakes,
Chris & Cosey,
Don Cherry,
The Martian,
Josef K,
Circle Jerks,
The Kinks,
John Foxx,
Eden Ahbez,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Schoolly D,
Yusef Lateef,
Scott Walker,
Robert Görl,
David McCallum,
Main Source,
Brick,
Nik Kershaw,
The American Breed,
The Moleskins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mars,
Cluster,
New York Dolls,
Shuggie Otis,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Crooked Eye,
Sun City Girls,
The Gladiators,
The Cramps,
Bill Wells,
Chrome,
Mission of Burma,
The Walker Brothers,
H. Thieme,
The Misunderstood,
One Last Wish,
Essential Logic,
Erasure,
Negative Approach,
Lindisfarne,
Todd Rundgren,
Henry Cow,
Agent Orange,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anakelly,
The Fire Engines,
Von Mondo,
Reagan Youth,
Skarface,
Ronan,
Amazonics,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.