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 India and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 808 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 Wally Richardson to the grunge 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dead C,
The J.B.'s,
Deakin,
Trumans Water,
The Knickerbockers,
Henry Cow,
Excepter,
B.T. Express,
The Doors,
Frankie Knuckles,
Goldenarms,
Pylon,
Bauhaus,
Bang On A Can,
This Heat,
Cybotron,
Au Pairs,
Absolute Body Control,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ultra Naté,
The Neon Judgement,
Blake Baxter,
Warren Ellis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marvin Gaye,
The Grass Roots,
the Bar-Kays,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Icehouse,
Spandau Ballet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Monks,
John Lydon,
Junior Murvin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grauzone,
Make Up,
Country Teasers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Loose Ends,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
T. Rex,
Schoolly D,
Eve St. Jones,
Bush Tetras,
Scratch Acid,
Can,
Amon Düül II,
The Red Krayola,
Neu!,
Gregory Isaacs,
Model 500,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Darondo,
Black Pus,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cabaret Voltaire,
A Certain Ratio,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.