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 Venezuela and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Glenn Branca to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Siglo XX,
Radio Birdman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Gladiators,
Moss Icon,
A Certain Ratio,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
a-ha,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Christie,
Fear,
Organ,
Sam Rivers,
Isaac Hayes,
Swans,
Ronan,
Josef K,
The Mummies,
Sun City Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Pantaleimon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Idris Muhammad,
Boz Scaggs,
Max Romeo,
Rekid,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeff Mills,
Scrapy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Byrd,
The Neon Judgement,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Reed,
John Foxx,
The Red Krayola,
Los Fastidios,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Martian,
Popol Vuh,
Vainqueur,
Minny Pops,
ABBA,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Flag,
The Electric Prunes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Bananas,
Gastr Del Sol,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Happenings,
Zero Boys,
Joyce Sims,
Blossom Toes,
Gabor Szabo,
The Skatalites,
Surgeon,
Amazonics,
Andrew Hill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.