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 Korea South and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb 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 Bauhaus to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
The Fugs,
Reuben Wilson,
The Slackers,
Wire,
Pantaleimon,
Faust,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Soft Cell,
Soul II Soul,
Magazine,
Eve St. Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
The Searchers,
Darondo,
Michelle Simonal,
Amazonics,
The Wake,
Tommy Roe,
Mantronix,
A Certain Ratio,
Roxy Music,
Sällskapet,
John Foxx,
Negative Approach,
Byron Stingily,
Sparks,
Mandrill,
Desert Stars,
Surgeon,
Kayak,
The Index,
Ohio Players,
Lightning Bolt,
The Durutti Column,
Sandy B,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Glenn Branca,
Talk Talk,
Goldenarms,
Neu!,
Kerrie Biddell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rakim,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tres Demented,
Kenny Larkin,
Saccharine Trust,
Joyce Sims,
The Grass Roots,
The Tremeloes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Liliput,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Clear Light,
Boogie Down Productions,
Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rosa Yemen,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.