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 Zambia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Milan and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 John Foxx to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
James White and The Blacks,
Outsiders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Harry Pussy,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Almond,
Dorothy Ashby,
Stiv Bators,
Magazine,
Eli Mardock,
Soft Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nico,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fat Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
48th St. Collective,
Oneida,
Prince Buster,
Hasil Adkins,
Pantytec,
Steve Hackett,
Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boredoms,
Fugazi,
Marshall Jefferson,
Shuggie Otis,
DJ Sneak,
Deepchord,
Bobby Sherman,
Ken Boothe,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Brothers Johnson,
Faraquet,
Minor Threat,
Lee Hazlewood,
Thee Headcoats,
Lucky Dragons,
Marine Girls,
MC5,
The Cramps,
Symarip,
Mars,
The Barracudas,
Jeff Mills,
Loose Ends,
Tim Buckley,
World's Most,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Arthur Verocai,
Nick Fraelich,
Theoretical Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
Brick,
La Düsseldorf,
Make Up,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.