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 Marshall Islands and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Japan to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Rakim,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tim Buckley,
Liliput,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Human League,
Skriet,
Fela Kuti,
The Modern Lovers,
H. Thieme,
Peter & Gordon,
Harry Pussy,
Buzzcocks,
Ponytail,
Clear Light,
the Human League,
The Grass Roots,
Scrapy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jacques Brel,
Malaria!,
Stereo Dub,
Lightning Bolt,
Robert Hood,
Warsaw,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barry Ungar,
The Real Kids,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David McCallum,
The Standells,
Dead Boys,
Dual Sessions,
Archie Shepp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry's Kids,
The Young Rascals,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Sheep,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wally Richardson,
The Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Byrd,
Pharoah Sanders,
New York Dolls,
The United States of America,
Minutemen,
Black Flag,
Eli Mardock,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeru the Damaja,
Carl Craig,
Ludus,
Derrick May,
Wolf Eyes,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.