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 Swaziland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Lyon and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Von Mondo to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Alton Ellis,
the Association,
The Last Poets,
Chrome,
Sixth Finger,
Crash Course in Science,
Barry Ungar,
Kurtis Blow,
Jerry's Kids,
Blossom Toes,
The Moody Blues,
The Pop Group,
Ultra Naté,
Main Source,
Mad Mike,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yusef Lateef,
X-Ray Spex,
Quantec,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Alison Limerick,
Cybotron,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
Erykah Badu,
Angry Samoans,
Scrapy,
The Fire Engines,
Slick Rick,
F. McDonald,
Franke,
Pussy Galore,
Royal Trux,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Residents,
The Gun Club,
Bobby Womack,
Jacob Miller,
Terry Callier,
Barrington Levy,
The Angels of Light,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Simply Red,
Infiniti,
Unrelated Segments,
Camberwell Now,
The Knickerbockers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Television Personalities,
Rapeman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Goldenarms,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Panda Bear,
Cymande,
The Selecter,
Prince Buster,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.