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 Belarus and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
The Smiths,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scion,
Sandy B,
Peter and Kerry,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Sonics,
Minor Threat,
Kaleidoscope,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Moon,
Quando Quango,
Kenny Larkin,
The Searchers,
Monolake,
Public Image Ltd.,
Camberwell Now,
Letta Mbulu,
Danielle Patucci,
Underground Resistance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Livin' Joy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Amon Düül II,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bauhaus,
Black Pus,
Symarip,
Cybotron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nico,
Rites of Spring,
Banda Bassotti,
Throbbing Gristle,
Suburban Knight,
Flamin' Groovies,
David McCallum,
T.S.O.L.,
Carl Craig,
Zero Boys,
Little Man,
DJ Sneak,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Funky Four + One,
Rekid,
The Human League,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dual Sessions,
Dark Day,
Soft Machine,
Tomorrow,
June Days,
Organ,
X-102,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.