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 Poland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Archie Shepp,
Buzzcocks,
The Misunderstood,
Joyce Sims,
Minnie Riperton,
Radio Birdman,
PIL,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kevin Saunderson,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Sherman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Duran Duran,
Ken Boothe,
Roxy Music,
Scratch Acid,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Camberwell Now,
The Names,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gun Club,
Make Up,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Holt,
Absolute Body Control,
Rites of Spring,
The Real Kids,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Angels of Light,
The Dirtbombs,
Rakim,
The Motions,
The Slackers,
Black Sheep,
Kurtis Blow,
Tubeway Army,
Leonard Cohen,
Warsaw,
Ice-T,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Human League,
Moby Grape,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Fugs,
Brass Construction,
Charles Mingus,
Derrick Morgan,
The Gladiators,
Ralphi Rosario,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Adolescents,
Pierre Henry,
Public Enemy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Intrusion,
Ronan,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.