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 Zimbabwe and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sex Pistols to the crunk 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Jeru the Damaja,
Accadde A,
Suburban Knight,
Bootsy Collins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Techniques,
Crime,
Graham Central Station,
ABBA,
Flamin' Groovies,
Los Fastidios,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Clear Light,
F. McDonald,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Toni Rubio,
The Misunderstood,
Average White Band,
Black Flag,
Scan 7,
The Slackers,
The Black Dice,
Parry Music,
The Dirtbombs,
New Order,
The Victims,
Ronan,
DJ Sneak,
Thompson Twins,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Robert Görl,
Idris Muhammad,
Susan Cadogan,
Leonard Cohen,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Basic Channel,
Altered Images,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Davy DMX,
Dave Gahan,
the Sonics,
Hasil Adkins,
Bill Wells,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Blues Magoos,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Style,
David Bowie,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soulsonic Force,
Peter & Gordon,
Wally Richardson,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Man Parrish,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Agitation Free,
The Neon Judgement,
Yellowson,
Ken Boothe,
Jacques Brel,
Laurel Aitken,
Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan.
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.