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 Laos and from Sao Paulo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Minutemen,
Black Pus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thee Headcoats,
The Invisible,
Hashim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Technova,
The Dead C,
Unwound,
Reagan Youth,
Sandy B,
The Cowsills,
Cluster,
Howard Jones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Skaos,
Man Eating Sloth,
Slave,
Zapp,
X-Ray Spex,
Ludus,
The Gladiators,
Sam Rivers,
The Busters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rekid,
June of 44,
Royal Trux,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Misunderstood,
The Mummies,
Television,
Brothers Johnson,
Skriet,
Gang Green,
Barbara Tucker,
The Residents,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Gap Band,
The Mojo Men,
Metal Thangz,
A Certain Ratio,
Amon Düül,
Funkadelic,
Quantec,
the Human League,
The Dave Clark Five,
Soft Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
Scratch Acid,
Dorothy Ashby,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Carl Craig,
The Fire Engines,
Brand Nubian,
David Axelrod,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roger Hodgson,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.