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 Samoa 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Fuzztones to the techno 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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Wolf Eyes,
Icehouse,
Con Funk Shun,
Angry Samoans,
The Move,
The Pretty Things,
Cluster,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Seeds,
Pierre Henry,
T. Rex,
Charles Mingus,
Brothers Johnson,
The Black Dice,
Morten Harket,
Crooked Eye,
Procol Harum,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Slackers,
Ice-T,
Kerri Chandler,
James Chance & The Contortions,
John Holt,
Panda Bear,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lalann,
The Skatalites,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Josef K,
David Bowie,
Robert Hood,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Gang Green,
The Fuzztones,
Delta 5,
T.S.O.L.,
Glenn Branca,
Zero Boys,
Scion,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Unrelated Segments,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rekid,
Adolescents,
Scrapy,
Warsaw,
Pole,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brass Construction,
the Association,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Grass Roots,
Black Flag,
The Gories,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Supertramp,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Roger Hodgson,
Spoonie Gee,
Marc Almond,
Letta Mbulu,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.