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 Congo and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Misunderstood to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joy Division,
Amazonics,
Moby Grape,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Trojans,
Cymande,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Pretty Things,
Trumans Water,
The Knickerbockers,
Ponytail,
Gong,
The Misunderstood,
Ultimate Spinach,
Magma,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Basic Channel,
Jeff Lynne,
Panda Bear,
Negative Approach,
Blancmange,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Barracudas,
Agent Orange,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Albert Ayler,
Q65,
The Durutti Column,
The Smiths,
Ronan,
John Lydon,
June of 44,
Absolute Body Control,
Animal Collective,
Henry Cow,
DJ Style,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ituana,
Wings,
Jacob Miller,
The Fall,
Theoretical Girls,
The Offenders,
China Crisis,
Lou Reed,
Cheater Slicks,
Cal Tjader,
Bang On A Can,
Al Stewart,
Frankie Knuckles,
Interpol,
Duran Duran,
Newcleus,
Quantec,
Stiv Bators,
Franke,
Second Layer,
DNA,
David Bowie,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.