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 United States and from Portland.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the funk 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Chris Corsano,
Henry Cow,
The Smiths,
The Zeros,
Franke,
PIL,
Cheater Slicks,
Organ,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Shoche,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dirtbombs,
the Bar-Kays,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Das Ding,
Bob Dylan,
Blake Baxter,
Goldenarms,
Howard Jones,
Joy Division,
Max Romeo,
Roger Hodgson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sällskapet,
Sugar Minott,
The Electric Prunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Monks,
Radio Birdman,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scion,
Black Bananas,
Deadbeat,
Marc Almond,
World's Most,
The Gun Club,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warren Ellis,
The Raincoats,
Bad Manners,
The Motions,
The Fall,
Crispian St. Peters,
Schoolly D,
Jerry's Kids,
Traffic Nightmare,
Reuben Wilson,
H. Thieme,
Ituana,
The Monochrome Set,
Sparks,
Ultravox,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boredoms,
Gong,
Monolake,
Mr. Review,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.