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 Singapore and from Bologna.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Shuggie Otis to the punk 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
Mars,
Goldenarms,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ornette Coleman,
Fatback Band,
Guru Guru,
Minny Pops,
the Swans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Standells,
Oneida,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
8 Eyed Spy,
PIL,
Drive Like Jehu,
Darondo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Saccharine Trust,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lower 48,
Fear,
Marc Almond,
Main Source,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Smoke,
The Divine Comedy,
Barbara Tucker,
Tom Boy,
Electric Prunes,
Magma,
John Foxx,
Lalann,
Alton Ellis,
Livin' Joy,
Yaz,
Urselle,
Pagans,
The Evens,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Michelle Simonal,
Magazine,
Hardrive,
Eve St. Jones,
Pussy Galore,
Soul II Soul,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Matthew Halsall,
The Residents,
CMW,
Crime,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Public Enemy,
the Slits,
Pantytec,
Bronski Beat,
the Human League,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Walker Brothers,
Brothers Johnson,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.