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 Congo and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 New York Dolls to the grime 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Ituana 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 punk 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
T.S.O.L.,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lower 48,
Vainqueur,
Junior Murvin,
One Last Wish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Yusef Lateef,
Main Source,
Malaria!,
Heaven 17,
Lalo Schifrin,
T. Rex,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ten City,
The Sound,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Massinfluence,
Sister Nancy,
Anakelly,
Shuggie Otis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pagans,
Albert Ayler,
Ken Boothe,
Althea and Donna,
The Smoke,
Janne Schatter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Quantec,
The Move,
Girls At Our Best!,
UT,
Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Niagra,
Eric Copeland,
The Slits,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Funkadelic,
Jacques Brel,
Von Mondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Agitation Free,
Leonard Cohen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Los Fastidios,
The Neon Judgement,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kerri Chandler,
Patti Smith,
Simply Red,
Al Stewart,
Bill Near,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.