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 Malaysia and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Saccharine Trust,
Liliput,
These Immortal Souls,
John Cale,
Quadrant,
The Monks,
Metal Thangz,
Hashim,
Monolake,
MC5,
Colin Newman,
The Dead C,
The Fall,
Procol Harum,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bronski Beat,
Stiv Bators,
DJ Style,
Jeff Lynne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Funky Four + One,
Public Image Ltd.,
Funkadelic,
Harry Pussy,
Q65,
The Blackbyrds,
The Electric Prunes,
Graham Central Station,
Niagra,
a-ha,
Heaven 17,
Arab on Radar,
Popol Vuh,
Joe Finger,
The American Breed,
Tommy Roe,
Crime,
Robert Hood,
Ultravox,
Alphaville,
Soft Machine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
JFA,
Pere Ubu,
Rotary Connection,
Slick Rick,
Rakim,
Wings,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eurythmics,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Morten Harket,
The Golliwogs,
The Durutti Column,
The Doors,
Buzzcocks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sonic Youth,
B.T. Express,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.