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 Liechtenstein and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the electroclash 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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
The Black Dice,
Kenny Larkin,
H. Thieme,
The Names,
Rapeman,
The Real Kids,
the Swans,
Bauhaus,
The Wake,
Oneida,
Ponytail,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Radiopuhelimet,
Absolute Body Control,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Slave,
Excepter,
Skarface,
John Lydon,
New Order,
The Fortunes,
Nas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Monolake,
Todd Terry,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Colin Newman,
Intrusion,
Skaos,
The Stooges,
Stereo Dub,
Niagra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terry Callier,
Mandrill,
Talk Talk,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Flag,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fluxion,
Joy Division,
The Music Machine,
Clear Light,
Agent Orange,
Eli Mardock,
The Golliwogs,
Lakeside,
Lungfish,
Symarip,
Joe Finger,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Techniques,
Thompson Twins,
Y Pants,
DJ Sneak,
Livin' Joy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.