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 Ghana and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nick Fraelich to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a 808 and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mark Hollis,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Holt,
Wings,
D'Angelo,
Bush Tetras,
CMW,
The Litter,
The Dirtbombs,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare,
Jandek,
U.S. Maple,
Junior Murvin,
Camberwell Now,
Rites of Spring,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gories,
The Gap Band,
Gong,
Bobby Byrd,
Deakin,
Hot Snakes,
Chris Corsano,
Loose Ends,
Funkadelic,
Mo-Dettes,
Agent Orange,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Sonics,
the Swans,
the Germs,
48th St. Collective,
John Coltrane,
This Heat,
The Real Kids,
Tim Buckley,
Blossom Toes,
Black Moon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marvin Gaye,
The Index,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Modern Lovers,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Tremeloes,
Bill Near,
The Blues Magoos,
The Mojo Men,
Roy Ayers,
Black Pus,
Robert Hood,
Lungfish,
Lyres,
Henry Cow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Flash Fearless,
Skaos,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.