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 Australia and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 John Lydon to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar 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?
Nirvana,
Bad Manners,
Stetsasonic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Womack,
Cecil Taylor,
Anthony Braxton,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Freddie Wadling,
U.S. Maple,
The Dead C,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Underground Resistance,
Rufus Thomas,
Sight & Sound,
Ten City,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang Starr,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bill Wells,
Monks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Glenn Branca,
Dead Boys,
Scion,
Ponytail,
Faraquet,
Chris & Cosey,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Radiohead,
Rakim,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fugs,
James White and The Blacks,
Vainqueur,
Schoolly D,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
X-Ray Spex,
Joensuu 1685,
Delta 5,
Swans,
Pere Ubu,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Deakin,
Rekid,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Anakelly,
Section 25,
The Fortunes,
Isaac Hayes,
The Buckinghams,
Scan 7,
Pulsallama,
Bob Dylan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Qualms,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Parrish,
Jandek,
Moby Grape,
Neil Young,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.