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 Belgium and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 The Raincoats to the jazz 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 Michelle Simonal. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Pulsallama,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Cramps,
Unwound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Can,
Boz Scaggs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Moebius,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aloha Tigers,
One Last Wish,
Clear Light,
Faraquet,
Masters at Work,
MC5,
Procol Harum,
Fluxion,
The Fuzztones,
Surgeon,
Neu!,
MDC,
Archie Shepp,
Accadde A,
Ponytail,
The Doors,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Symarip,
Darondo,
Oblivians,
H. Thieme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Little Man,
Jeff Mills,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Crooked Eye,
Bad Manners,
June of 44,
The Index,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Swans,
Scientists,
Letta Mbulu,
Jawbox,
Black Pus,
Jerry's Kids,
The Smoke,
Joey Negro,
Goldenarms,
Cluster,
The Remains,
Parry Music,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed,
Slave,
Scratch Acid,
Excepter,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pagans,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.