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 Uganda and from New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 Crispian St. Peters to the disco 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
Brick,
the Sonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Michelle Simonal,
Index,
The Music Machine,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Pretty Things,
Johnny Clarke,
The Slits,
UT,
Inner City,
Connie Case,
Altered Images,
Y Pants,
Fatback Band,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Sneak,
Rekid,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sight & Sound,
MDC,
Eddi Front,
Anakelly,
Black Flag,
Yusef Lateef,
The Dead C,
Mo-Dettes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hasil Adkins,
Dark Day,
The Names,
Make Up,
The Mummies,
Gang Green,
Negative Approach,
Thee Headcoats,
Kevin Saunderson,
Darondo,
The American Breed,
The Durutti Column,
The Blues Magoos,
Outsiders,
Trumans Water,
The Misunderstood,
Cybotron,
Saccharine Trust,
Henry Cow,
Ornette Coleman,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hashim,
Faust,
Jandek,
Eve St. Jones,
Schoolly D,
Delon & Dalcan,
Monolake,
Don Cherry,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.