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 Mongolia 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Reuben Wilson to the funk 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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gladiators,
The Fuzztones,
Porter Ricks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Make Up,
The Cowsills,
Cheater Slicks,
Fatback Band,
Inner City,
Joy Division,
Black Sheep,
Robert Hood,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sandy B,
Minnie Riperton,
CMW,
Con Funk Shun,
Thompson Twins,
The Slackers,
Scion,
The Shadows of Knight,
Max Romeo,
Archie Shepp,
Bill Near,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Malaria!,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bootsy Collins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dual Sessions,
The Gories,
Underground Resistance,
Sarah Menescal,
Maleditus Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
Steve Hackett,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ten City,
Byron Stingily,
Kayak,
Index,
KRS-One,
Kerri Chandler,
The Motions,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
MDC,
AZ,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
DJ Style,
Schoolly D,
Lyres,
Arcadia,
Wire,
Excepter,
Animal Collective,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.