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 Romania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the crunk 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Model 500,
10cc,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Coltrane,
Tres Demented,
The Searchers,
Magma,
The Dead C,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nick Fraelich,
Urselle,
Audionom,
Cal Tjader,
Roger Hodgson,
Robert Wyatt,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
New Age Steppers,
Marine Girls,
Blossom Toes,
The Red Krayola,
Gong,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Grass Roots,
Flipper,
The Walker Brothers,
a-ha,
Second Layer,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pere Ubu,
Man Parrish,
Warren Ellis,
Brothers Johnson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kayak,
Joy Division,
Agent Orange,
Crooked Eye,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ossler,
Anthony Braxton,
Glenn Branca,
Eden Ahbez,
The Raincoats,
The Remains,
Faraquet,
Swell Maps,
Public Image Ltd.,
Banda Bassotti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The New Christs,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Ponytail,
Matthew Bourne,
Jeff Mills,
cv313,
The Evens,
the Sonics,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.