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 Kazakhstan and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 the Slits to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Scrapy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Barbara Tucker,
Quadrant,
Technova,
Massinfluence,
The Doors,
Max Romeo,
Aaron Thompson,
Mars,
The New Christs,
Skaos,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pierre Henry,
Cameo,
Bad Manners,
Rapeman,
Spandau Ballet,
Hot Snakes,
Soulsonic Force,
Silicon Teens,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joey Negro,
Suicide,
The Golliwogs,
Dual Sessions,
Ronan,
Tom Boy,
Cal Tjader,
Sonic Youth,
Nik Kershaw,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Oneida,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
David Bowie,
The Walker Brothers,
a-ha,
Moss Icon,
The Misunderstood,
X-Ray Spex,
Swans,
Fatback Band,
Oblivians,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Royal Trux,
Jesper Dahlback,
Derrick Morgan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sällskapet,
Niagra,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gang Gang Dance,
Khruangbin,
Grandmaster Flash,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monochrome Set,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.