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 Ivory Coast and from Beijing.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sun City Girls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Black Sheep,
Idris Muhammad,
Yellowson,
The Tremeloes,
This Heat,
ABC,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Todd Terry,
Magazine,
Grandmaster Flash,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Camberwell Now,
Wally Richardson,
Porter Ricks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ornette Coleman,
Shuggie Otis,
The Litter,
Inner City,
Interpol,
The Leaves,
Oneida,
Clear Light,
Marcia Griffiths,
Underground Resistance,
Sparks,
Laurel Aitken,
Loose Ends,
Drive Like Jehu,
Index,
Swans,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultravox,
Q65,
Tim Buckley,
The Five Americans,
48th St. Collective,
Pantytec,
Lyres,
Peter and Kerry,
Scott Walker,
Jesper Dahlback,
Suicide,
The Golliwogs,
The Neon Judgement,
The Zeros,
Black Flag,
Archie Shepp,
Franke,
Bauhaus,
Johnny Clarke,
Organ,
China Crisis,
Hoover,
The Pretty Things,
The Names,
Cameo,
Man Parrish,
OOIOO,
Sällskapet,
Das Ding,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.