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 Togo and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Misunderstood to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Bang On A Can,
the Sonics,
Marine Girls,
The Smiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alice Coltrane,
Warsaw,
Jacob Miller,
Bootsy Collins,
John Coltrane,
Toni Rubio,
Roxy Music,
The Trojans,
The American Breed,
Siglo XX,
Tommy Roe,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nick Fraelich,
Deepchord,
Reuben Wilson,
Vainqueur,
Neu!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Blackbyrds,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sarah Menescal,
Blake Baxter,
Fear,
Qualms,
Peter and Kerry,
Yusef Lateef,
Warren Ellis,
Soul II Soul,
Rod Modell,
Wire,
Sun City Girls,
Talk Talk,
Organ,
Suburban Knight,
Television,
Kaleidoscope,
The Barracudas,
These Immortal Souls,
Visage,
Wasted Youth,
ABBA,
DJ Sneak,
Altered Images,
T. Rex,
Hardrive,
Cabaret Voltaire,
X-101,
Andrew Hill,
Sällskapet,
Camouflage,
John Lydon,
Derrick May,
Das Ding,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tim Buckley,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.