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 Andorra and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Gladiators to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
FM Einheit,
Television,
The Skatalites,
Man Parrish,
the Normal,
The Slackers,
Babytalk,
Hoover,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dawn Penn,
Infiniti,
Amazonics,
June of 44,
Lee Hazlewood,
Arcadia,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Vladislav Delay,
Freddie Wadling,
Model 500,
Young Marble Giants,
Lyres,
Jandek,
Pantytec,
The Black Dice,
DJ Sneak,
Pagans,
Nas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jacob Miller,
Wally Richardson,
The Leaves,
Absolute Body Control,
Yusef Lateef,
Robert Görl,
The Gap Band,
Tomorrow,
Mark Hollis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Brick,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sugar Minott,
The Cure,
Rekid,
The Remains,
Au Pairs,
Zapp,
Blossom Toes,
Trumans Water,
Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
Barbara Tucker,
KRS-One,
The Gun Club,
Make Up,
Joe Smooth,
UT,
Panda Bear,
Sixth Finger,
Qualms,
Wire,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.