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 Sweden and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Absolute Body Control to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Duran Duran,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scan 7,
Brothers Johnson,
Prince Buster,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wire,
Connie Case,
Second Layer,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lalo Schifrin,
Das Ding,
Maurizio,
Slick Rick,
Urselle,
The Black Dice,
Marmalade,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flash Fearless,
Yusef Lateef,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sun Ra,
The Busters,
Cymande,
Jacob Miller,
Ponytail,
Marshall Jefferson,
Matthew Halsall,
Moss Icon,
The New Christs,
Lucky Dragons,
Cluster,
The Real Kids,
Con Funk Shun,
Mark Hollis,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fire Engines,
Marvin Gaye,
The Move,
Inner City,
the Association,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Make Up,
The Dead C,
The Human League,
Graham Central Station,
Gichy Dan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
Cal Tjader,
Monolake,
Fugazi,
Sam Rivers,
Suburban Knight,
Vainqueur,
World's Most,
Depeche Mode,
June of 44,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.