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 Nicaragua and from Taipei.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Pus,
The Neon Judgement,
Marmalade,
Judy Mowatt,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skarface,
The Residents,
ABC,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Durutti Column,
Arab on Radar,
Howard Jones,
Ultra Naté,
Joey Negro,
Urselle,
Accadde A,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Oblivians,
Television Personalities,
Davy DMX,
Eli Mardock,
Zapp,
Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scientists,
Technova,
Robert Wyatt,
Reuben Wilson,
The Stooges,
Lungfish,
Little Man,
Hardrive,
Banda Bassotti,
Dennis Brown,
The Saints,
Ludus,
Bill Wells,
Black Moon,
The Music Machine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Quando Quango,
Matthew Bourne,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Main Source,
Surgeon,
Morten Harket,
Barrington Levy,
The Slackers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Fire Engines,
Bobby Sherman,
Faraquet,
The Offenders,
Danielle Patucci,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.