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 Russia and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 T. Rex to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Angels of Light,
Glambeats Corp.,
Drexciya,
The Velvet Underground,
Crispy Ambulance,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Sherman,
Todd Rundgren,
The Leaves,
Animal Collective,
Kerri Chandler,
Can,
Harmonia,
Eric Dolphy,
Slick Rick,
Los Fastidios,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Altered Images,
Kerrie Biddell,
Underground Resistance,
John Foxx,
Albert Ayler,
Grauzone,
Eurythmics,
Joyce Sims,
the Normal,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Excepter,
Iggy Pop,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hot Snakes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Maleditus Sound,
Wasted Youth,
Pagans,
Lucky Dragons,
Bill Near,
Circle Jerks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Blossom Toes,
Scott Walker,
the Association,
Khruangbin,
Nick Fraelich,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gerry Rafferty,
Symarip,
Avey Tare,
Faust,
Boredoms,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hardrive,
Darondo,
Connie Case,
Television,
MC5,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.