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 Tunisia and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Robert Palmer 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 The Detroit Cobras to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
the Bar-Kays,
Freddie Wadling,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Robert Görl,
Model 500,
Gang Green,
Maurizio,
Public Enemy,
Echospace,
Interpol,
Banda Bassotti,
Icehouse,
The Red Krayola,
Pharoah Sanders,
Junior Murvin,
Gichy Dan,
Max Romeo,
Byron Stingily,
Cheater Slicks,
Unwound,
Minor Threat,
Pere Ubu,
Swans,
Suicide,
Trumans Water,
The Birthday Party,
Zapp,
These Immortal Souls,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tomorrow,
DJ Sneak,
Dead Boys,
The Stooges,
Jerry's Kids,
Shoche,
Los Fastidios,
Zero Boys,
Minny Pops,
Tears for Fears,
Minutemen,
The Cowsills,
Rod Modell,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Association,
John Cale,
The Pretty Things,
Mark Hollis,
Althea and Donna,
Letta Mbulu,
Minnie Riperton,
Television,
Sound Behaviour,
Faust,
Scion,
Buzzcocks,
Roy Ayers,
Pagans,
Crash Course in Science,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Intrusion,
The Techniques,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.