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 Armenia and from Calgary.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 Skriet 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Wake,
Crispy Ambulance,
T. Rex,
Infiniti,
The Dirtbombs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quantec,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-101,
Laurel Aitken,
Letta Mbulu,
Underground Resistance,
Hoover,
The Remains,
KRS-One,
Nik Kershaw,
Piero Umiliani,
Eric B and Rakim,
Blossom Toes,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Cramps,
Jeff Mills,
Wolf Eyes,
Das Ding,
The Seeds,
Visage,
Robert Hood,
Slick Rick,
Alice Coltrane,
Lucky Dragons,
Electric Light Orchestra,
10cc,
Bill Near,
Dave Gahan,
The Kinks,
Deakin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
T.S.O.L.,
Essential Logic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Swell Maps,
Janne Schatter,
Cymande,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Kurtis Blow,
H. Thieme,
Minutemen,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Misunderstood,
K-Klass,
Barbara Tucker,
The Black Dice,
Nirvana,
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.