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 United States and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 D'Angelo to the funk 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Josef K,
Maurizio,
cv313,
Soulsonic Force,
T. Rex,
Boz Scaggs,
Deakin,
Swans,
Surgeon,
Intrusion,
Bobby Sherman,
Stereo Dub,
Hashim,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scientists,
Electric Prunes,
Magazine,
Bob Dylan,
Arab on Radar,
Monolake,
Supertramp,
AZ,
One Last Wish,
Rekid,
Harpers Bizarre,
The New Christs,
Magma,
The Martian,
Guru Guru,
The Names,
Mr. Review,
Accadde A,
David Bowie,
Robert Wyatt,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Gun Club,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
FM Einheit,
ABC,
Animal Collective,
Cluster,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Last Poets,
Fat Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kaleidoscope,
The Raincoats,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
CMW,
Porter Ricks,
ABBA,
Nick Fraelich,
Pantaleimon,
Thee Headcoats,
Radiohead,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kayak,
Albert Ayler,
Agitation Free,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.