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 New Zealand and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Adolescents to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dual Sessions,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Evens,
Duran Duran,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fear,
The Pretty Things,
Liliput,
The Cowsills,
Cheater Slicks,
Thompson Twins,
Michelle Simonal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barry Ungar,
Leonard Cohen,
Flipper,
Agent Orange,
Saccharine Trust,
Pole,
The Leaves,
The Fortunes,
Ultravox,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Audionom,
Joey Negro,
Stockholm Monsters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Don Cherry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Swans,
Lakeside,
F. McDonald,
Marc Almond,
Archie Shepp,
Tears for Fears,
Robert Hood,
Freddie Wadling,
Unwound,
T.S.O.L.,
The Martian,
World's Most,
Eric Copeland,
Isaac Hayes,
Dave Gahan,
Masters at Work,
Q and Not U,
The Trojans,
Depeche Mode,
Crash Course in Science,
Davy DMX,
Bootsy Collins,
Althea and Donna,
Quando Quango,
Peter & Gordon,
Sound Behaviour,
Crooked Eye,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minutemen,
Sparks,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.