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 Tunisia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Paris.
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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Flag to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Alarm Clocks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Raincoats,
Don Cherry,
The Knickerbockers,
CMW,
Erykah Badu,
The Divine Comedy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warren Ellis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fat Boys,
Blossom Toes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yusef Lateef,
Country Teasers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pierre Henry,
Kool Moe Dee,
Can,
A Certain Ratio,
Pylon,
One Last Wish,
Pet Shop Boys,
Chrome,
Sixth Finger,
Scientists,
Loose Ends,
Fatback Band,
Aaron Thompson,
The Last Poets,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brand Nubian,
The Pop Group,
Rites of Spring,
Outsiders,
Todd Rundgren,
Scion,
Q65,
Faraquet,
Nick Fraelich,
The Sound,
The Remains,
Tears for Fears,
Suicide,
Siglo XX,
Tubeway Army,
Anakelly,
Dead Boys,
Wire,
John Cale,
cv313,
the Soft Cell,
Moss Icon,
Sex Pistols,
The Zeros,
The Names,
Quadrant,
The J.B.'s,
Public Enemy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.