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 Greece and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 synthesizer 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 Dave Gahan to the rap 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
The Red Krayola,
Ultravox,
Peter and Kerry,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispian St. Peters,
Soulsonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Velvet Underground,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marine Girls,
The Fugs,
The Mojo Men,
The Invisible,
Alice Coltrane,
Public Enemy,
cv313,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quando Quango,
ABC,
Marc Almond,
JFA,
Juan Atkins,
Judy Mowatt,
Desert Stars,
Scott Walker,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Freddie Wadling,
R.M.O.,
Jeff Mills,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Stooges,
The Toasters,
Technova,
The Associates,
Piero Umiliani,
The Knickerbockers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Alton Ellis,
Colin Newman,
Spandau Ballet,
The Electric Prunes,
The Victims,
The Seeds,
Outsiders,
The Leaves,
Tubeway Army,
OOIOO,
Jacob Miller,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Duran Duran,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Amazonics,
The Offenders,
Inner City,
Soft Cell,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
The Doors,
Matthew Bourne,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.