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 St Lucia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Royal Trux to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong 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?
John Foxx,
Dead Boys,
The Motions,
Fat Boys,
Archie Shepp,
The Durutti Column,
Echospace,
Isaac Hayes,
Deadbeat,
Anakelly,
DJ Sneak,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Slits,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
The American Breed,
Toni Rubio,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Whodini,
OOIOO,
Fugazi,
The Blackbyrds,
Eve St. Jones,
Monolake,
H. Thieme,
the Swans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Masters at Work,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Age Steppers,
Erykah Badu,
Wolf Eyes,
The Martian,
Amon Düül,
The Gun Club,
The Barracudas,
Faust,
Gong,
Yellowson,
Judy Mowatt,
Danielle Patucci,
Crooked Eye,
The Smiths,
Animal Collective,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Grey Daturas,
CMW,
Negative Approach,
K-Klass,
Gichy Dan,
The Mojo Men,
Crime,
Piero Umiliani,
The Gladiators,
Little Man,
Interpol,
Slave,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.