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 Panama and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron 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 Unwound to the rap 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Bad Manners,
The Cure,
Howard Jones,
Television,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scott Walker,
Mars,
Mad Mike,
Half Japanese,
Eden Ahbez,
Severed Heads,
Moss Icon,
Nico,
The Victims,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lalann,
Outsiders,
The Move,
These Immortal Souls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cheater Slicks,
cv313,
Slave,
Soulsonic Force,
Moby Grape,
Wings,
Sex Pistols,
Index,
ABC,
Ponytail,
Cybotron,
Roxy Music,
Gregory Isaacs,
Skarface,
Siglo XX,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
KRS-One,
Groovy Waters,
Spoonie Gee,
Marshall Jefferson,
Graham Central Station,
Monks,
The Grass Roots,
Jeff Lynne,
Symarip,
Joensuu 1685,
Nirvana,
Quadrant,
Black Bananas,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flipper,
Sam Rivers,
the Soft Cell,
Magazine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Funkadelic,
The Modern Lovers,
Godley & Creme,
Maleditus Sound,
Cymande,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.