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 Namibia and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Sex Pistols to the punk 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Theoretical Girls,
The Standells,
Rod Modell,
Fat Boys,
Lower 48,
Black Pus,
The Gap Band,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grauzone,
Hot Snakes,
Reagan Youth,
One Last Wish,
The Blackbyrds,
The Velvet Underground,
Flipper,
Deadbeat,
The Knickerbockers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
H. Thieme,
The Skatalites,
Eric Copeland,
China Crisis,
Porter Ricks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Severed Heads,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Pop Group,
Swans,
The Five Americans,
T.S.O.L.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Spandau Ballet,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The United States of America,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bronski Beat,
John Foxx,
Kayak,
The Slackers,
Avey Tare,
Ten City,
Bush Tetras,
Kenny Larkin,
Newcleus,
Ronnie Foster,
Ornette Coleman,
Audionom,
Todd Rundgren,
Rosa Yemen,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fear,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pantytec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Grass Roots,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.