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 El Salvador and from Lagos.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the funk 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Smoke,
Reuben Wilson,
The Gladiators,
Fugazi,
Essential Logic,
OOIOO,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Music Machine,
Ice-T,
The Sound,
Kerrie Biddell,
Danielle Patucci,
Deepchord,
Saccharine Trust,
Sonic Youth,
Pagans,
Bobby Sherman,
John Holt,
The Smiths,
Surgeon,
Hashim,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tom Boy,
a-ha,
Crime,
Duran Duran,
The Pretty Things,
The Fugs,
The Raincoats,
Dark Day,
Mad Mike,
Jawbox,
Mars,
Dual Sessions,
Neu!,
Echospace,
Loose Ends,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Henry Cow,
8 Eyed Spy,
Section 25,
Letta Mbulu,
Slave,
The Mummies,
The Golliwogs,
the Germs,
Wally Richardson,
X-101,
Harpers Bizarre,
10cc,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pantaleimon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Erasure,
Connie Case,
Tubeway Army,
The J.B.'s,
Talk Talk,
Basic Channel,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.