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 Nepal and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Howard Jones to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Nils Olav,
Index,
Gregory Isaacs,
Radio Birdman,
Liliput,
Buzzcocks,
Sugar Minott,
Lalann,
the Soft Cell,
Vainqueur,
Flash Fearless,
Das Ding,
Negative Approach,
Fad Gadget,
Tommy Roe,
Pagans,
Kerri Chandler,
Q65,
DJ Style,
The Mojo Men,
Joey Negro,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultra Naté,
Kas Product,
Aswad,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ronnie Foster,
Bush Tetras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harmonia,
Skaos,
Glenn Branca,
The Real Kids,
Make Up,
The Saints,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Christie,
Bluetip,
Fluxion,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Funky Four + One,
T.S.O.L.,
Franke,
Massinfluence,
Mark Hollis,
Q and Not U,
Eric B and Rakim,
Charles Mingus,
Judy Mowatt,
Pole,
Joe Finger,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Accadde A,
The Seeds,
David Axelrod,
Donald Byrd,
The Cure,
Agent Orange,
Eve St. Jones,
Tom Boy,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.