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 South Sudan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Flesh Eaters to the dance 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Freddie Wadling,
Pantaleimon,
The Sound,
The New Christs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Womack,
K-Klass,
a-ha,
Brass Construction,
Fat Boys,
Gong,
Deadbeat,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lightning Bolt,
Goldenarms,
Agent Orange,
Hashim,
Masters at Work,
Piero Umiliani,
Colin Newman,
Procol Harum,
Siglo XX,
The Golliwogs,
Wolf Eyes,
Brick,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rapeman,
Todd Terry,
Faraquet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Matthew Bourne,
Sarah Menescal,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rotary Connection,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Mad Mike,
Barry Ungar,
Sugar Minott,
Nirvana,
Josef K,
Tim Buckley,
Grauzone,
Roxette,
The Blackbyrds,
The Mojo Men,
Lebanon Hanover,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Doobie Brothers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Wake,
The Dirtbombs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Minutemen,
Lou Christie,
Yellowson,
X-102,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.