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 Australia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 David Bowie 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 Swans to the techno 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Hot Snakes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bad Manners,
Derrick May,
Grauzone,
Audionom,
Kurtis Blow,
Sight & Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Grey Daturas,
Masters at Work,
the Swans,
One Last Wish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
UT,
Section 25,
Alison Limerick,
The Invisible,
Smog,
Moss Icon,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
Heaven 17,
The New Christs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Frankie Knuckles,
Delta 5,
Aswad,
John Lydon,
Spandau Ballet,
Gichy Dan,
June Days,
Alton Ellis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scrapy,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Byrd,
Lakeside,
Jerry's Kids,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers,
Gong,
Kool Moe Dee,
Hardrive,
Danielle Patucci,
Nils Olav,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crispy Ambulance,
Graham Central Station,
Black Bananas,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bauhaus,
The Red Krayola,
Sarah Menescal,
Swell Maps,
Quando Quango,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.