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 Tanzania and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Quadrant to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Blancmange,
Ludus,
New Age Steppers,
Albert Ayler,
Throbbing Gristle,
Glenn Branca,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Main Source,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Beau Brummels,
The Busters,
The Skatalites,
John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wasted Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eden Ahbez,
Crooked Eye,
Camberwell Now,
The Residents,
DJ Sneak,
Skriet,
Section 25,
Whodini,
Sandy B,
Pylon,
Aural Exciters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Yusef Lateef,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
KRS-One,
Terry Callier,
The Buckinghams,
Guru Guru,
Negative Approach,
The Electric Prunes,
Visage,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Maurizio,
U.S. Maple,
The Blues Magoos,
ABC,
Quando Quango,
The Dead C,
Joe Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
cv313,
Sun City Girls,
Gang of Four,
kango's stein massive,
Pulsallama,
Wire,
Godley & Creme,
Ken Boothe,
The Golliwogs,
The Blackbyrds,
Bauhaus,
Black Moon,
Excepter,
The Martian,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.