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 Argentina and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Goldenarms to the dance 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Rapeman,
The Music Machine,
Sight & Sound,
Todd Terry,
Sam Rivers,
Buzzcocks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
These Immortal Souls,
Albert Ayler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Desert Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cybotron,
Organ,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Second Layer,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Fortunes,
Nas,
The Toasters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
Accadde A,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The New Christs,
Funky Four + One,
Sunsets and Hearts,
MDC,
Josef K,
The Sonics,
DJ Style,
The Count Five,
Pussy Galore,
Public Image Ltd.,
PIL,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Selecter,
Vladislav Delay,
Kenny Larkin,
Radiohead,
One Last Wish,
Ohio Players,
Inner City,
Slave,
Deadbeat,
Harmonia,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ten City,
The Techniques,
The Names,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Andrew Hill,
Porter Ricks,
B.T. Express,
Ultimate Spinach,
Toni Rubio,
Donald Byrd,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.