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 East Timor and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Moebius to the techno 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Marine Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Byron Stingily,
Oneida,
Bad Manners,
Ronan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Dead C,
Subhumans,
Piero Umiliani,
Infiniti,
Jacques Brel,
The Remains,
Mad Mike,
The Blackbyrds,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Trumans Water,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jawbox,
Todd Terry,
Arthur Verocai,
The Names,
Unrelated Segments,
Robert Hood,
Harmonia,
The Golliwogs,
Icehouse,
Visage,
Franke,
Whodini,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The United States of America,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
UT,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Colin Newman,
LL Cool J,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marmalade,
Index,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Misunderstood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Intrusion,
Leonard Cohen,
Quando Quango,
Todd Rundgren,
June of 44,
Camberwell Now,
The Fugs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Technova,
Country Teasers,
The Knickerbockers,
Kerri Chandler,
Ossler,
Scan 7,
David Bowie,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.