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 Tonga and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Gang Gang Dance,
D'Angelo,
Bronski Beat,
Bob Dylan,
DJ Sneak,
Wally Richardson,
Al Stewart,
Basic Channel,
Joy Division,
Man Parrish,
Althea and Donna,
The Motions,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang Starr,
Gichy Dan,
Pere Ubu,
Sam Rivers,
Rod Modell,
Wire,
The Sound,
the Germs,
Kerrie Biddell,
Guru Guru,
Wasted Youth,
The Seeds,
Alice Coltrane,
The Kinks,
Y Pants,
Main Source,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bill Near,
Trumans Water,
Pagans,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Smiths,
Chris Corsano,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crime,
Sound Behaviour,
Au Pairs,
Amon Düül II,
The Vogues,
Monolake,
Fugazi,
Sexual Harrassment,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers,
Lungfish,
Jandek,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pantaleimon,
Albert Ayler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Interpol,
Black Flag,
Aloha Tigers,
Derrick Morgan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stereo Dub,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Leaves,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.