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 Liberia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mexico City.
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 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 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 Nik Kershaw to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Buzzcocks,
Skriet,
Black Moon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Max Romeo,
Juan Atkins,
Kenny Larkin,
The Young Rascals,
Colin Newman,
John Lydon,
The Pop Group,
Ohio Players,
Arthur Verocai,
Anakelly,
The Smiths,
Livin' Joy,
The Move,
Ornette Coleman,
In Retrospect,
Aswad,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare,
Rotary Connection,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
John Holt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gregory Isaacs,
Albert Ayler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Audionom,
The Golliwogs,
Minnie Riperton,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cramps,
Pulsallama,
Sun City Girls,
Smog,
EPMD,
Brothers Johnson,
Barrington Levy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lungfish,
DNA,
Donald Byrd,
Lindisfarne,
the Slits,
Ice-T,
Faraquet,
Pagans,
The Last Poets,
Pylon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Symarip,
Isaac Hayes,
Spandau Ballet,
Newcleus,
Lower 48,
Brick,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Techniques,
The Selecter,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.