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 Yemen and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Technova to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Deepchord,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Chris Corsano,
Bob Dylan,
Sixth Finger,
Sex Pistols,
Dennis Brown,
The New Christs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Severed Heads,
CMW,
Albert Ayler,
Peter & Gordon,
Lou Reed,
FM Einheit,
The Selecter,
The Residents,
Erasure,
ABC,
Slick Rick,
Agitation Free,
Ponytail,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Sonics,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Moby Grape,
Eurythmics,
Rosa Yemen,
Dead Boys,
Unwound,
The Walker Brothers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wire,
The Five Americans,
Swell Maps,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultra Naté,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deakin,
Hashim,
The Sonics,
The Grass Roots,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Maurizio,
Blake Baxter,
Bootsy Collins,
The Young Rascals,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warsaw,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Maleditus Sound,
Lalann,
Make Up,
Subhumans,
Mr. Review,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.