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 Mauritius and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 The Sisters of Mercy to the rock 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
ABC,
Tears for Fears,
China Crisis,
Thompson Twins,
Cluster,
Jandek,
The Invisible,
Crash Course in Science,
Model 500,
Suicide,
Tommy Roe,
Quantec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marine Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
Severed Heads,
Mantronix,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Quando Quango,
Nik Kershaw,
Lower 48,
Agitation Free,
Soul Sonic Force,
Half Japanese,
Ludus,
Alphaville,
Eli Mardock,
Sällskapet,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nick Fraelich,
T. Rex,
Skriet,
Trumans Water,
Althea and Donna,
Rosa Yemen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heaven 17,
Altered Images,
Glambeats Corp.,
Howard Jones,
Colin Newman,
Fatback Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Whodini,
The Searchers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sixth Finger,
Janne Schatter,
Chrome,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fat Boys,
Massinfluence,
Spoonie Gee,
Albert Ayler,
kango's stein massive,
Erykah Badu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.