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 Cameroon and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Harry Pussy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Reed,
Simply Red,
Negative Approach,
Boogie Down Productions,
Country Teasers,
Nas,
Yazoo,
Roxette,
Adolescents,
The Human League,
Theoretical Girls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Doors,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Gun Club,
KRS-One,
Reagan Youth,
Duran Duran,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Howard Jones,
Ituana,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
MC5,
PIL,
Tres Demented,
Rufus Thomas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Techniques,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Busters,
Jandek,
Sun City Girls,
Nils Olav,
Mantronix,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bauhaus,
Au Pairs,
Jacques Brel,
Delon & Dalcan,
DJ Style,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Pretty Things,
Parry Music,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gang Green,
Lakeside,
Dead Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
Eve St. Jones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Saccharine Trust,
Matthew Halsall,
Blossom Toes,
Amon Düül,
The Mojo Men,
Alison Limerick,
Brick,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.