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 Switzerland 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Masters at Work to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Harry Pussy,
The Count Five,
R.M.O.,
Cal Tjader,
Tubeway Army,
Buzzcocks,
Skaos,
Qualms,
Moby Grape,
Au Pairs,
Dawn Penn,
Icehouse,
Charles Mingus,
David Bowie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pere Ubu,
Gil Scott Heron,
Massinfluence,
The Evens,
Erasure,
Babytalk,
Tim Buckley,
Masters at Work,
Shoche,
Siglo XX,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Archie Shepp,
Pole,
Thompson Twins,
Bill Wells,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultra Naté,
Can,
Sun Ra,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Sonics,
Be Bop Deluxe,
AZ,
The Raincoats,
Joy Division,
Gong,
T. Rex,
Liliput,
8 Eyed Spy,
One Last Wish,
Faraquet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lower 48,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bang On A Can,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Infiniti,
The Monochrome Set,
Rotary Connection,
Aloha Tigers,
Whodini,
John Foxx,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Modern Lovers,
The Smoke,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Toasters,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.