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 Nigeria and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Mr. Review to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Technova,
Schoolly D,
Severed Heads,
Patti Smith,
Camberwell Now,
The Move,
Albert Ayler,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Quadrant,
Eurythmics,
Metal Thangz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Associates,
The Five Americans,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Saccharine Trust,
Pet Shop Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Sandy B,
Blancmange,
the Swans,
Ice-T,
The Cure,
B.T. Express,
Alice Coltrane,
Fugazi,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Pretty Things,
Connie Case,
Malaria!,
The Residents,
Lou Reed,
The Last Poets,
Brass Construction,
The Barracudas,
Jimmy McGriff,
New Order,
Tropical Tobacco,
Erasure,
Wings,
Young Marble Giants,
Gregory Isaacs,
Idris Muhammad,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Icehouse,
Ronnie Foster,
Mantronix,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Leaves,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Smiths,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Bar-Kays,
Crash Course in Science,
Pierre Henry,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nas,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.