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 Saudi Arabia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Excepter to the disco 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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Albert Ayler,
The Fuzztones,
Pole,
The Beau Brummels,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ohio Players,
Dave Gahan,
Aaron Thompson,
Sugar Minott,
X-102,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Suicide,
Cameo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soft Machine,
Scion,
Ornette Coleman,
EPMD,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gladiators,
Mission of Burma,
Pet Shop Boys,
Underground Resistance,
Intrusion,
Gichy Dan,
Sun Ra,
Funkadelic,
Minutemen,
Gang Green,
Y Pants,
Ultravox,
Chrome,
Josef K,
Bluetip,
Fad Gadget,
Gong,
The Kinks,
John Cale,
Essential Logic,
Pantytec,
Metal Thangz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Remains,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pulsallama,
Cluster,
Lucky Dragons,
Buzzcocks,
Black Pus,
H. Thieme,
Alphaville,
MDC,
Slave,
Alice Coltrane,
Kurtis Blow,
Scan 7,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.