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 Russia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warren Ellis 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rosa Yemen,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
X-Ray Spex,
Joensuu 1685,
Unrelated Segments,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Magazine,
Loose Ends,
The Modern Lovers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
The Barracudas,
Moebius,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lucky Dragons,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Music Machine,
Jacob Miller,
The Knickerbockers,
Stetsasonic,
Mad Mike,
Jandek,
The Neon Judgement,
Lee Hazlewood,
Throbbing Gristle,
X-102,
Nik Kershaw,
The Kinks,
Pantaleimon,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Dead C,
Connie Case,
The Index,
Mandrill,
Lightning Bolt,
Scrapy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Section 25,
Accadde A,
Erasure,
Slave,
the Sonics,
Bush Tetras,
Wally Richardson,
the Human League,
Cymande,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Bar-Kays,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ultravox,
Silicon Teens,
Anthony Braxton,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Pop Group,
The Names,
The Fortunes,
The Monochrome Set,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.