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 Djibouti and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ 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 Avey Tare to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Tim Buckley,
Leonard Cohen,
Young Marble Giants,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sandy B,
8 Eyed Spy,
Surgeon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Misunderstood,
Henry Cow,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Near,
Thompson Twins,
Sun City Girls,
T. Rex,
Kurtis Blow,
Procol Harum,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jacob Miller,
The Last Poets,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Agitation Free,
Faust,
Popol Vuh,
48th St. Collective,
Parry Music,
Au Pairs,
John Holt,
D'Angelo,
Country Teasers,
DJ Sneak,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cheater Slicks,
The Black Dice,
Metal Thangz,
Organ,
Deakin,
Echospace,
Alice Coltrane,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry's Kids,
Boz Scaggs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Leaves,
Brick,
Susan Cadogan,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Andrew Hill,
Ice-T,
Neu!,
Funkadelic,
Crispian St. Peters,
H. Thieme,
A Certain Ratio,
Chris & Cosey,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Modern Lovers,
The Index,
The Blackbyrds,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.