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 Guinea-Bissau and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Houston.
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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Nils Olav to the disco 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Sixth Finger,
Jesper Dahlback,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Sneak,
Animal Collective,
Pole,
Godley & Creme,
Sarah Menescal,
The Stooges,
Babytalk,
Neu!,
John Foxx,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Agent Orange,
John Holt,
Yellowson,
E-Dancer,
Lou Christie,
Easy Going,
F. McDonald,
Newcleus,
Alton Ellis,
The Buckinghams,
Kerrie Biddell,
Zapp,
The Index,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pylon,
Danielle Patucci,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Dirtbombs,
Eden Ahbez,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Monks,
John Lydon,
Fugazi,
Soul Sonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
Reuben Wilson,
Althea and Donna,
Blossom Toes,
Fluxion,
Aaron Thompson,
FM Einheit,
One Last Wish,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Saints,
Surgeon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Pretty Things,
A Certain Ratio,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Knickerbockers,
Section 25,
Joy Division,
The Modern Lovers,
Roger Hodgson,
Kaleidoscope,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.