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 Venezuela and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rap 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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke 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?
Mark Hollis,
Fad Gadget,
Amazonics,
The Misunderstood,
Charles Mingus,
UT,
Index,
Rhythm & Sound,
Joe Finger,
The Residents,
Black Pus,
Gang of Four,
Robert Wyatt,
T. Rex,
Wings,
Altered Images,
The Real Kids,
Minor Threat,
Gabor Szabo,
Aural Exciters,
Joy Division,
Byron Stingily,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Fugs,
Talk Talk,
Shoche,
Oneida,
Buzzcocks,
Public Enemy,
Newcleus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cure,
Swell Maps,
Bauhaus,
Rakim,
Average White Band,
Loose Ends,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Marmalade,
Ponytail,
The Slits,
Andrew Hill,
Skaos,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Lydon,
Porter Ricks,
X-102,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gang Green,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rosa Yemen,
Darondo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.