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 Ecuador and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord 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 Traffic Nightmare to the rock 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jandek,
Tres Demented,
The Grass Roots,
The Saints,
The New Christs,
Pere Ubu,
Sound Behaviour,
The Raincoats,
Nik Kershaw,
Accadde A,
Whodini,
Nils Olav,
U.S. Maple,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bronski Beat,
Icehouse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Flash Fearless,
The Young Rascals,
Chris Corsano,
Pagans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Angels of Light,
Tommy Roe,
Vainqueur,
The Cowsills,
Mad Mike,
Scott Walker,
Black Pus,
Television,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang Starr,
Wolf Eyes,
Rites of Spring,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
Adolescents,
The Modern Lovers,
The Mojo Men,
Hashim,
Don Cherry,
Young Marble Giants,
Hot Snakes,
Lee Hazlewood,
AZ,
The Last Poets,
Josef K,
Derrick May,
DJ Sneak,
Sparks,
Sun Ra,
Grauzone,
June of 44,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Durutti Column,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.