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 Bahrain and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Raincoats to the punk 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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Wyatt,
Josef K,
The Divine Comedy,
David McCallum,
Make Up,
Second Layer,
Livin' Joy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pussy Galore,
Graham Central Station,
These Immortal Souls,
Barry Ungar,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric Copeland,
Junior Murvin,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Blues Magoos,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Main Source,
Shuggie Otis,
Panda Bear,
Radiopuhelimet,
La Düsseldorf,
Loose Ends,
Lalo Schifrin,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
A Certain Ratio,
Anthony Braxton,
John Lydon,
The Leaves,
Robert Görl,
Average White Band,
Fugazi,
The Motions,
Dave Gahan,
Ultra Naté,
the Slits,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Misunderstood,
Excepter,
Wings,
Fluxion,
Todd Rundgren,
Pierre Henry,
Roxy Music,
Sex Pistols,
Quantec,
Joe Smooth,
The Kinks,
Los Fastidios,
Maleditus Sound,
Mantronix,
Freddie Wadling,
F. McDonald,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
The Sound,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.