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 Comoros and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gladiators to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Bob Dylan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Sonics,
Carl Craig,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Kinks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Scientists,
Hot Snakes,
Peter and Kerry,
The Birthday Party,
Dave Gahan,
Byron Stingily,
Stetsasonic,
The Cure,
Kayak,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marine Girls,
Gang of Four,
Khruangbin,
The Busters,
The Durutti Column,
Deadbeat,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roxy Music,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Robert Wyatt,
Howard Jones,
Camouflage,
Monks,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Connie Case,
Gong,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moby Grape,
The Real Kids,
Scan 7,
Derrick Morgan,
Pere Ubu,
Isaac Hayes,
Procol Harum,
Pharoah Sanders,
Silicon Teens,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Rotary Connection,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soul II Soul,
Malaria!,
Eve St. Jones,
Bronski Beat,
Zero Boys,
John Foxx,
The Residents,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.