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 Algeria and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Blossom Toes,
The Busters,
World's Most,
Susan Cadogan,
K-Klass,
Cal Tjader,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Ultravox,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Leaves,
Easy Going,
48th St. Collective,
The Associates,
Anthony Braxton,
Erykah Badu,
KRS-One,
The Dave Clark Five,
Outsiders,
Lucky Dragons,
Crooked Eye,
Bush Tetras,
Khruangbin,
Delta 5,
Junior Murvin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Todd Terry,
Eddi Front,
Magazine,
Ronan,
Rotary Connection,
The Beau Brummels,
Harry Pussy,
Stiv Bators,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sun Ra,
The Black Dice,
Wings,
Derrick Morgan,
Flipper,
Tropical Tobacco,
Royal Trux,
John Holt,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Das Ding,
Bang On A Can,
Sam Rivers,
Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scott Walker,
Depeche Mode,
Von Mondo,
Gang of Four,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Human League,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Monochrome Set,
Sound Behaviour,
Newcleus,
The Vogues,
Aural Exciters,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.