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 Mongolia and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Soft Cell,
The Sound,
Black Flag,
Roxy Music,
Ituana,
Derrick May,
Dead Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Underground Resistance,
The Martian,
Monks,
Soul II Soul,
Pagans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Swans,
Ultravox,
Chris Corsano,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pussy Galore,
New York Dolls,
Y Pants,
B.T. Express,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terrestrial Tones,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ten City,
Technova,
Khruangbin,
Mr. Review,
Marc Almond,
Tom Boy,
Archie Shepp,
Mad Mike,
Eli Mardock,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Byron Stingily,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
OOIOO,
Blossom Toes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Steve Hackett,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nick Fraelich,
Hoover,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Pop Group,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sun City Girls,
Sandy B,
Max Romeo,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Womack,
Interpol,
Aaron Thompson,
Joe Finger,
Jandek,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.