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 Delhi.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes 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 The Smiths to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Drive Like Jehu,
Funky Four + One,
Tim Buckley,
Bauhaus,
Gabor Szabo,
The Names,
T.S.O.L.,
Fear,
Rites of Spring,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Wyatt,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bang On A Can,
Adolescents,
The Buckinghams,
Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jerry's Kids,
Tears for Fears,
Skaos,
Basic Channel,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pantaleimon,
Negative Approach,
Hardrive,
Laurel Aitken,
Kurtis Blow,
the Germs,
Roxette,
Arcadia,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Fela Kuti,
H. Thieme,
The Evens,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Masters at Work,
Parry Music,
The Birthday Party,
Donald Byrd,
The Golliwogs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Make Up,
Barclay James Harvest,
Judy Mowatt,
The Pop Group,
The Sisters of Mercy,
ABBA,
The Music Machine,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
PIL,
Derrick Morgan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Connie Case,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hoover,
Procol Harum,
Ornette Coleman,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.