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 Finland and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
AZ,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drexciya,
Carl Craig,
China Crisis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
New Order,
Outsiders,
Wally Richardson,
The Cramps,
The Mummies,
Spandau Ballet,
Barbara Tucker,
Au Pairs,
The Gories,
Pulsallama,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
kango's stein massive,
Delta 5,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aural Exciters,
Quadrant,
Barclay James Harvest,
L. Decosne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New York Dolls,
Flipper,
Aloha Tigers,
David Axelrod,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Soulsonic Force,
Charles Mingus,
The Gladiators,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fugazi,
Joensuu 1685,
Section 25,
Hardrive,
Organ,
Massinfluence,
Alphaville,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Human League,
Max Romeo,
Neu!,
The Dave Clark Five,
Das Ding,
Sparks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Depeche Mode,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The American Breed,
Bluetip,
Buzzcocks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Connie Case,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Funkadelic,
Rufus Thomas,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.