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 Panama and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Faust to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Bush Tetras,
Swans,
New Age Steppers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nico,
The Misunderstood,
Reagan Youth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soulsonic Force,
Swell Maps,
Rotary Connection,
Maleditus Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Crash Course in Science,
David Bowie,
Kenny Larkin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rosa Yemen,
Goldenarms,
Rekid,
Von Mondo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Loose Ends,
The Moleskins,
Flipper,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
June Days,
The Cure,
Surgeon,
Supertramp,
The Remains,
Unwound,
Rod Modell,
Suburban Knight,
Bob Dylan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Talk Talk,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Slits,
Boz Scaggs,
Mo-Dettes,
Das Ding,
Todd Terry,
Audionom,
The Pretty Things,
Whodini,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Al Stewart,
DJ Style,
Donald Byrd,
Symarip,
Severed Heads,
Fatback Band,
The Angels of Light,
Marmalade,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ken Boothe,
Yusef Lateef,
the Soft Cell,
EPMD,
The Last Poets,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.