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 Thailand and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin 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 Jeru the Damaja to the punk 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
The Golliwogs,
Trumans Water,
Pantaleimon,
Minny Pops,
Surgeon,
Television,
Charles Mingus,
Judy Mowatt,
Amon Düül,
Iggy Pop,
Robert Wyatt,
Index,
The American Breed,
Camberwell Now,
kango's stein massive,
Symarip,
The Raincoats,
The Blues Magoos,
Little Man,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Parrish,
The Walker Brothers,
Section 25,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Wake,
The Toasters,
Boz Scaggs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Aswad,
Audionom,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
Pantytec,
Scratch Acid,
Slick Rick,
Lindisfarne,
Black Pus,
the Sonics,
The Remains,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Darondo,
Grey Daturas,
Joy Division,
Fugazi,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fire Engines,
The Red Krayola,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Barracudas,
Mars,
The Cramps,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Smiths,
Erykah Badu,
Bang On A Can,
Lee Hazlewood,
Godley & Creme,
The Offenders,
Eric Copeland,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.