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 Djibouti and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cheater Slicks to the grunge 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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Television,
Althea and Donna,
Metal Thangz,
Ituana,
Moebius,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
JFA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Mojo Men,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minutemen,
Scratch Acid,
Scan 7,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Matthew Halsall,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Robert Hood,
Whodini,
Unwound,
Crash Course in Science,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sight & Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
The Barracudas,
Ice-T,
The Golliwogs,
Yaz,
T. Rex,
Thee Headcoats,
Alison Limerick,
The Angels of Light,
Surgeon,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Leonard Cohen,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hasil Adkins,
The Wake,
the Bar-Kays,
The Gories,
Basic Channel,
The Walker Brothers,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fugs,
Agent Orange,
John Lydon,
Tears for Fears,
Scientists,
X-102,
Sex Pistols,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nick Fraelich,
The Index,
Eurythmics,
Marc Almond,
Jawbox,
Heaven 17,
Junior Murvin,
Joe Finger,
the Normal,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.