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 Taiwan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 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 The Mojo Men to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eric Copeland,
Ludus,
DJ Sneak,
Glambeats Corp.,
L. Decosne,
Ronnie Foster,
Fugazi,
Arab on Radar,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers,
Pylon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Beau Brummels,
Bootsy Collins,
Inner City,
Max Romeo,
Wolf Eyes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Mojo Men,
Alison Limerick,
Al Stewart,
Sixth Finger,
Robert Wyatt,
David Bowie,
Alphaville,
The Mummies,
The Last Poets,
Depeche Mode,
Fatback Band,
Magma,
Judy Mowatt,
Moby Grape,
The Fuzztones,
Ituana,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed,
Eric Dolphy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Janne Schatter,
The Sound,
La Düsseldorf,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Henry Cow,
Jacob Miller,
Anakelly,
Stetsasonic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Grauzone,
Mary Jane Girls,
H. Thieme,
Bill Near,
The Angels of Light,
Mantronix,
Can,
Unwound,
Amazonics,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.