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 Poland and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blossom Toes to the punk 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
The Leaves,
Black Moon,
Young Marble Giants,
Soul II Soul,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Vogues,
Motorama,
Dave Gahan,
Banda Bassotti,
Underground Resistance,
Albert Ayler,
CMW,
Kool Moe Dee,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moody Blues,
Siglo XX,
Toni Rubio,
Ultra Naté,
Kerri Chandler,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
B.T. Express,
The Sound,
Nik Kershaw,
Organ,
The Associates,
PIL,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Magazine,
Visage,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wolf Eyes,
Pussy Galore,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Cowsills,
Sugar Minott,
Rod Modell,
Aaron Thompson,
Loose Ends,
Yusef Lateef,
The Invisible,
June Days,
Lungfish,
Pulsallama,
Crime,
Swell Maps,
Slave,
Barry Ungar,
F. McDonald,
Barrington Levy,
Popol Vuh,
Wings,
Quando Quango,
Fela Kuti,
Arab on Radar,
James White and The Blacks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nico,
Circle Jerks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Index,
John Cale,
Alphaville,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.