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 Switzerland and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe 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 Man Parrish to the rock 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Eve St. Jones,
Monolake,
Robert Görl,
8 Eyed Spy,
Max Romeo,
Japan,
The Count Five,
Rakim,
DJ Sneak,
These Immortal Souls,
Pere Ubu,
In Retrospect,
New Age Steppers,
The Slackers,
The Slits,
Lindisfarne,
Talk Talk,
Pussy Galore,
Mission of Burma,
Alice Coltrane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Tremeloes,
Fear,
Colin Newman,
Rosa Yemen,
Lyres,
Thee Headcoats,
Freddie Wadling,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cameo,
Deadbeat,
Spandau Ballet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Main Source,
The Offenders,
John Lydon,
Soft Cell,
Sound Behaviour,
Davy DMX,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Stooges,
The Wake,
UT,
Sällskapet,
Lou Christie,
Sparks,
Slave,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott Heron,
Andrew Hill,
Wings,
Sandy B,
Sarah Menescal,
Dave Gahan,
The Residents,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Stiv Bators,
Banda Bassotti,
Warsaw,
Yellowson,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.