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 Mauritania and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 Sparks 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Smog,
David Bowie,
Junior Murvin,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slick Rick,
The Cramps,
the Bar-Kays,
Rotary Connection,
kango's stein massive,
John Lydon,
Young Marble Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fire Engines,
Zero Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Rufus Thomas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Popol Vuh,
Pussy Galore,
The Raincoats,
Ralphi Rosario,
FM Einheit,
Livin' Joy,
Bill Wells,
Tommy Roe,
Lyres,
Suburban Knight,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Half Japanese,
Television,
CMW,
Deepchord,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Shoche,
China Crisis,
Sällskapet,
Heaven 17,
Bootsy Collins,
The Slits,
Scan 7,
The Red Krayola,
Scrapy,
Sparks,
The Gories,
Can,
The Count Five,
The Tremeloes,
Monolake,
DNA,
X-101,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kas Product,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Cure,
Absolute Body Control,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Coltrane,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.