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 Brunei and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jerry's Kids to the rap 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Erasure,
Sonny Sharrock,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marine Girls,
Urselle,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hoover,
Alice Coltrane,
Glenn Branca,
Little Man,
Liliput,
The Skatalites,
The Searchers,
Joey Negro,
Kayak,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Henry Cow,
The Fire Engines,
Traffic Nightmare,
Yaz,
Yazoo,
Qualms,
Maurizio,
X-102,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tom Boy,
the Swans,
Cameo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Andrew Hill,
The Cowsills,
Monks,
The Birthday Party,
David Bowie,
Blake Baxter,
DNA,
The Slackers,
Anthony Braxton,
Model 500,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nirvana,
Pantaleimon,
U.S. Maple,
Technova,
The Wake,
MC5,
Bauhaus,
FM Einheit,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Young Rascals,
Eden Ahbez,
Flipper,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fad Gadget,
Deakin,
John Coltrane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.