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 Kuwait and from Jakarta.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Severed Heads to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Johnny Clarke,
Ultra Naté,
X-101,
David Axelrod,
The Martian,
Josef K,
Fad Gadget,
Janne Schatter,
The Fugs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mandrill,
Index,
Chris Corsano,
Delta 5,
Duran Duran,
Nils Olav,
Howard Jones,
Vainqueur,
These Immortal Souls,
Susan Cadogan,
Bang On A Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skriet,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Monks,
Mantronix,
The Selecter,
Aloha Tigers,
Soft Machine,
the Swans,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lakeside,
Franke,
Ultravox,
Swans,
Roy Ayers,
Barrington Levy,
Outsiders,
Ossler,
Japan,
Kayak,
The Real Kids,
New Order,
Aswad,
The Last Poets,
KRS-One,
Smog,
Scratch Acid,
Fela Kuti,
Malaria!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
F. McDonald,
Fear,
Maurizio,
Qualms,
The Beau Brummels,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The American Breed,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci.
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.