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 Palau and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bill Wells to the funk 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
UT,
China Crisis,
The Smiths,
The Fuzztones,
Neu!,
Faust,
Los Fastidios,
David Bowie,
Cameo,
Silicon Teens,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bootsy Collins,
Eurythmics,
Rakim,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cramps,
The Human League,
Subhumans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang Green,
Throbbing Gristle,
Second Layer,
Radiohead,
Sparks,
New York Dolls,
Cal Tjader,
Barclay James Harvest,
JFA,
Black Moon,
Mars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nils Olav,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Velvet Underground,
Byron Stingily,
The Wake,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gerry Rafferty,
MDC,
Surgeon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Birthday Party,
The Real Kids,
Avey Tare,
Jandek,
Bauhaus,
The Modern Lovers,
Marine Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Glenn Branca,
Leonard Cohen,
Zero Boys,
Don Cherry,
Judy Mowatt,
Nas,
Hardrive,
FM Einheit,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.