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 New Zealand and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Boz Scaggs,
Franke,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Golliwogs,
Wally Richardson,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Audionom,
Marc Almond,
F. McDonald,
X-101,
Magazine,
Clear Light,
Wings,
Angry Samoans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Al Stewart,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Terry Callier,
Ten City,
the Bar-Kays,
48th St. Collective,
The Star Department,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pharoah Sanders,
Faust,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
Arthur Verocai,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Smoke,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ronnie Foster,
Jandek,
Amazonics,
Bill Wells,
Wasted Youth,
Toni Rubio,
The Doors,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Flag,
Massinfluence,
Dennis Brown,
Amon Düül II,
Mad Mike,
The Fall,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
June of 44,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Womack,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Steve Hackett,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pierre Henry,
Aaron Thompson,
Peter and Kerry,
Blake Baxter,
Jacob Miller,
a-ha,
Ice-T,
E-Dancer,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.