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 the UAE and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Magma to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario 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 808 and a chamberlin 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 oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Copeland,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Second Layer,
Tommy Roe,
Joy Division,
In Retrospect,
Loose Ends,
Rites of Spring,
Joyce Sims,
The Misunderstood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Donald Byrd,
Minny Pops,
The Happenings,
The Techniques,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Blancmange,
Subhumans,
Quadrant,
Soul II Soul,
Royal Trux,
Wasted Youth,
Depeche Mode,
Brass Construction,
The Fugs,
UT,
The Black Dice,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Easy Going,
Popol Vuh,
Lakeside,
Derrick Morgan,
cv313,
Animal Collective,
Mr. Review,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Magma,
Yaz,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Alton Ellis,
Prince Buster,
Todd Terry,
The Fuzztones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rod Modell,
X-Ray Spex,
Cameo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
David McCallum,
Marvin Gaye,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Isaac Hayes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.