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 Slovenia and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Liliput to the disco 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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Mr. Review,
Todd Terry,
Slave,
Terry Callier,
Fat Boys,
The Star Department,
Youth Brigade,
James White and The Blacks,
The Residents,
Stetsasonic,
Anthony Braxton,
Scientists,
Maurizio,
Leonard Cohen,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fuzztones,
kango's stein massive,
LL Cool J,
Duran Duran,
Blossom Toes,
Shuggie Otis,
Y Pants,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Aswad,
Rod Modell,
Livin' Joy,
New Age Steppers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soul II Soul,
These Immortal Souls,
Minny Pops,
Mo-Dettes,
Toni Rubio,
R.M.O.,
Joy Division,
The Stooges,
Rites of Spring,
Max Romeo,
Robert Görl,
Byron Stingily,
Glenn Branca,
JFA,
Ultimate Spinach,
Drexciya,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sun Ra,
the Sonics,
Joyce Sims,
Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
Fear,
Sex Pistols,
The Angels of Light,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marine Girls,
The Wake,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.