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 Burundi and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
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 arpeggiator 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 Marcia Griffiths to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Brick,
Ultravox,
The Golliwogs,
Roxy Music,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
DNA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Goldenarms,
Second Layer,
The Electric Prunes,
Terry Callier,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sugar Minott,
Wasted Youth,
The Durutti Column,
Absolute Body Control,
Monks,
Cybotron,
Moss Icon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Vogues,
The Motions,
Dawn Penn,
The Techniques,
Lucky Dragons,
Scrapy,
the Slits,
Minor Threat,
Cymande,
Chris Corsano,
Tommy Roe,
Excepter,
Juan Atkins,
Agent Orange,
John Coltrane,
Pantytec,
Ultra Naté,
Sparks,
Icehouse,
Sun City Girls,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Monks,
MDC,
Fugazi,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Litter,
L. Decosne,
X-101,
Pole,
Echospace,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Human League,
The Modern Lovers,
Magma,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blues Magoos,
The Knickerbockers,
Deadbeat,
The Saints,
Sandy B,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.