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 Samoa and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bush Tetras to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Leaves,
Schoolly D,
The Associates,
Masters at Work,
James White and The Blacks,
Nico,
The Fall,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sly & The Family Stone,
JFA,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Lynne,
Aaron Thompson,
Newcleus,
Oblivians,
Harmonia,
Flash Fearless,
Black Sheep,
Letta Mbulu,
Terry Callier,
Anthony Braxton,
Lucky Dragons,
The Slits,
Crime,
Lindisfarne,
Robert Wyatt,
Boogie Down Productions,
Clear Light,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Seeds,
Henry Cow,
Parry Music,
Marvin Gaye,
Mars,
Amazonics,
The Tremeloes,
Aural Exciters,
Pierre Henry,
Country Teasers,
Tim Buckley,
Amon Düül II,
Johnny Clarke,
The Move,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tomorrow,
The Black Dice,
Siglo XX,
the Soft Cell,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
Joy Division,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scan 7,
Los Fastidios,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Infiniti,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.