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 Italy and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron 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 Robert Hood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
The Invisible,
R.M.O.,
Sonic Youth,
The Move,
Chris Corsano,
Delon & Dalcan,
Toni Rubio,
Drive Like Jehu,
Franke,
Royal Trux,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mad Mike,
The Motions,
Rod Modell,
Niagra,
a-ha,
Avey Tare,
Pet Shop Boys,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cybotron,
the Bar-Kays,
Sällskapet,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
June Days,
John Holt,
Flipper,
Swans,
Hashim,
The Fall,
Derrick Morgan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Tremeloes,
Erasure,
KRS-One,
Lyres,
PIL,
ABBA,
Glambeats Corp.,
10cc,
Sister Nancy,
Young Marble Giants,
The Standells,
Agent Orange,
Electric Prunes,
Tres Demented,
Isaac Hayes,
Neu!,
Kerri Chandler,
Nik Kershaw,
Angry Samoans,
The Fugs,
Bobby Sherman,
Tears for Fears,
The Index,
Crash Course in Science,
the Swans,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
Cheater Slicks,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.