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 China and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Man Eating Sloth to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
The Barracudas,
Make Up,
JFA,
L. Decosne,
Maleditus Sound,
Can,
Ken Boothe,
The Saints,
Man Eating Sloth,
New Age Steppers,
The Gories,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bush Tetras,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed,
David McCallum,
Loose Ends,
F. McDonald,
Black Bananas,
Pulsallama,
Sällskapet,
Donald Byrd,
Roger Hodgson,
Tropical Tobacco,
48th St. Collective,
The Modern Lovers,
Joey Negro,
Circle Jerks,
Pierre Henry,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare,
Suburban Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fire Engines,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pole,
Second Layer,
Smog,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharoah Sanders,
Surgeon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Grey Daturas,
Swans,
Quadrant,
The Invisible,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Style,
Pet Shop Boys,
Freddie Wadling,
Aural Exciters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scan 7,
Hot Snakes,
The Divine Comedy,
Khruangbin,
the Soft Cell,
UT,
The Mummies,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.