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 Rwanda and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Hardrive to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sugar Minott,
Aswad,
Suburban Knight,
Wolf Eyes,
Iggy Pop,
Erykah Badu,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joy Division,
Rapeman,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Cowsills,
Fatback Band,
Joyce Sims,
John Cale,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Gories,
Deepchord,
Lalo Schifrin,
Fort Wilson Riot,
48th St. Collective,
Harmonia,
Steve Hackett,
Alison Limerick,
Section 25,
The Zeros,
Aloha Tigers,
Max Romeo,
Blancmange,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Real Kids,
Juan Atkins,
Das Ding,
Sam Rivers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Matthew Bourne,
Oblivians,
Tim Buckley,
The Vogues,
Tropical Tobacco,
Throbbing Gristle,
Erasure,
Bad Manners,
Pole,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lalann,
Andrew Hill,
Soul II Soul,
Guru Guru,
New Age Steppers,
Ludus,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Youth Brigade,
Shoche,
Kevin Saunderson,
Carl Craig,
The Stooges,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.