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 Libya and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Crispy Ambulance to the punk 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Brass Construction,
Adolescents,
Howard Jones,
Ultravox,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tres Demented,
Subhumans,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Star Department,
Au Pairs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rod Modell,
Icehouse,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Womack,
Boredoms,
Connie Case,
The Martian,
Letta Mbulu,
The Red Krayola,
Rakim,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Modern Lovers,
Moby Grape,
Can,
Q65,
EPMD,
The Residents,
Matthew Bourne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Prince Buster,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DJ Sneak,
The Associates,
New Age Steppers,
Lyres,
Gong,
Freddie Wadling,
Aural Exciters,
Stereo Dub,
Saccharine Trust,
Loose Ends,
Sun City Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pylon,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Christie,
Sandy B,
Frankie Knuckles,
Duran Duran,
F. McDonald,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Derrick Morgan,
Cybotron,
Aloha Tigers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.