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 Turkey and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Bob Dylan to the grime 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Livin' Joy,
The Saints,
Fad Gadget,
Henry Cow,
The Stooges,
David Bowie,
Brass Construction,
Nik Kershaw,
Flash Fearless,
Soul II Soul,
Wire,
Oblivians,
Scratch Acid,
The Beau Brummels,
The Human League,
Fatback Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Parry Music,
Donald Byrd,
Absolute Body Control,
Swans,
Symarip,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Barrington Levy,
Ituana,
The Count Five,
Darondo,
a-ha,
Lightning Bolt,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Shuggie Otis,
The Index,
Khruangbin,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Niagra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Dirtbombs,
Sugar Minott,
Zapp,
DJ Sneak,
The Monks,
Zero Boys,
Moby Grape,
Angry Samoans,
MC5,
Anakelly,
Godley & Creme,
Ronnie Foster,
Kayak,
X-Ray Spex,
The Sound,
X-102,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tim Buckley,
Easy Going,
The Angels of Light,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Magma,
The Pop Group,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.