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 Turkey and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Lucky Dragons to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
The New Christs,
Bobby Sherman,
Zapp,
Lower 48,
Minnie Riperton,
Ponytail,
The Toasters,
48th St. Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bang On A Can,
Gregory Isaacs,
La Düsseldorf,
Fad Gadget,
10cc,
Soft Cell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Todd Rundgren,
The Searchers,
Icehouse,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nick Fraelich,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brand Nubian,
Avey Tare,
Amazonics,
Cecil Taylor,
Aaron Thompson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radio Birdman,
Jeff Lynne,
Derrick May,
Section 25,
Juan Atkins,
Arab on Radar,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roger Hodgson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marmalade,
Eden Ahbez,
UT,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Wake,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pierre Henry,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stereo Dub,
Bootsy Collins,
DJ Sneak,
The Knickerbockers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slick Rick,
Kerri Chandler,
Talk Talk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Barry Ungar,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Green,
Tim Buckley,
Joensuu 1685,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.