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 Belize and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Sexual Harrassment to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kerri Chandler,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Shadows of Knight,
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mars,
Q65,
H. Thieme,
One Last Wish,
Audionom,
Scratch Acid,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Detroit Cobras,
FM Einheit,
Anthony Braxton,
Reagan Youth,
Spandau Ballet,
Boredoms,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deadbeat,
Country Teasers,
Roy Ayers,
Cheater Slicks,
a-ha,
Gastr Del Sol,
Newcleus,
Amon Düül II,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sister Nancy,
New Age Steppers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Technova,
Lindisfarne,
Yazoo,
Rod Modell,
Whodini,
Terry Callier,
Sight & Sound,
Freddie Wadling,
John Coltrane,
The Remains,
the Germs,
Nirvana,
Malaria!,
These Immortal Souls,
Ludus,
Ice-T,
Robert Hood,
The Searchers,
The Zeros,
Underground Resistance,
The Golliwogs,
Make Up,
Joey Negro,
The Misunderstood,
the Fania All-Stars,
Oblivians,
John Cale,
The Sisters of Mercy,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.