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 Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Brand Nubian to the funk 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Cure,
Jandek,
Symarip,
The Knickerbockers,
The Velvet Underground,
JFA,
Skaos,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Kinks,
Spoonie Gee,
Parry Music,
Lungfish,
Aural Exciters,
Joy Division,
Rhythm & Sound,
Donny Hathaway,
Deakin,
The J.B.'s,
The Monks,
the Sonics,
Adolescents,
Delta 5,
Excepter,
Lou Christie,
Whodini,
David Bowie,
The United States of America,
Joe Smooth,
Ronan,
Index,
Unwound,
Zapp,
Jawbox,
The Victims,
The Slits,
The Toasters,
Fugazi,
John Holt,
The Five Americans,
Ralphi Rosario,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Andrew Hill,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Angry Samoans,
Sam Rivers,
Buzzcocks,
Gong,
Electric Prunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Albert Ayler,
The Gories,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Swans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Livin' Joy,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.