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 Liberia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
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 organ 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 Barry Ungar to the rap 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Metal Thangz,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
X-101,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Japan,
Tres Demented,
World's Most,
David Axelrod,
The Monks,
Warren Ellis,
the Normal,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Invisible,
the Swans,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Standells,
U.S. Maple,
Franke,
Peter & Gordon,
John Foxx,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Toasters,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Todd Terry,
Royal Trux,
Jerry's Kids,
Grandmaster Flash,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Selecter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Sherman,
Jeff Mills,
Swell Maps,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Surgeon,
Kerri Chandler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bob Dylan,
Man Parrish,
MDC,
Bootsy Collins,
Yusef Lateef,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lower 48,
Stiv Bators,
Urselle,
Blancmange,
Nico,
The Dead C,
F. McDonald,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Youth Brigade,
Roxette,
Laurel Aitken,
B.T. Express,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.