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 El Salvador and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bootsy Collins to the disco 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
The Moleskins,
Nation of Ulysses,
Clear Light,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mantronix,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gabor Szabo,
The Fortunes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stetsasonic,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roger Hodgson,
Technova,
Jacques Brel,
U.S. Maple,
Suburban Knight,
Fugazi,
The Names,
Shuggie Otis,
Stiv Bators,
Cecil Taylor,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The American Breed,
Hoover,
Freddie Wadling,
Siglo XX,
The Toasters,
Wings,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Laurel Aitken,
Nas,
Lucky Dragons,
Cheater Slicks,
Erykah Badu,
Flash Fearless,
Delon & Dalcan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Organ,
Index,
Steve Hackett,
Alice Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
The Leaves,
T.S.O.L.,
Ornette Coleman,
Ludus,
Infiniti,
Avey Tare,
Max Romeo,
Gichy Dan,
Sarah Menescal,
The Five Americans,
Mark Hollis,
Susan Cadogan,
The Pretty Things,
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.