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 Tehran.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 The Smiths to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Derrick Morgan,
Nils Olav,
Angry Samoans,
Scan 7,
Piero Umiliani,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pylon,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Walker Brothers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
Depeche Mode,
Hashim,
The Birthday Party,
The Martian,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Terry Callier,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pussy Galore,
Can,
Mad Mike,
Albert Ayler,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cal Tjader,
Second Layer,
Skarface,
Kas Product,
In Retrospect,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Beau Brummels,
Au Pairs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Cluster,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sight & Sound,
Zero Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
Das Ding,
Arcadia,
Byron Stingily,
Jeff Lynne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
Minutemen,
Carl Craig,
The Gap Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Barrington Levy,
The American Breed,
Von Mondo,
Absolute Body Control,
Charles Mingus,
F. McDonald,
The Fortunes,
Derrick May,
Saccharine Trust,
David McCallum,
Cecil Taylor,
Wasted Youth,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.