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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Gories,
David Bowie,
Unwound,
Groovy Waters,
Make Up,
Bauhaus,
The Angels of Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dave Gahan,
Alison Limerick,
New Order,
Ossler,
Kerrie Biddell,
Minny Pops,
Porter Ricks,
Soulsonic Force,
Hashim,
Skriet,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Almond,
The Remains,
Rosa Yemen,
Pulsallama,
Fela Kuti,
Ralphi Rosario,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Black Dice,
The Vogues,
Tears for Fears,
Eddi Front,
Amazonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mantronix,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Thee Headcoats,
Joey Negro,
Reagan Youth,
Duran Duran,
Barry Ungar,
Bang On A Can,
Mad Mike,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Quantec,
Avey Tare,
Derrick Morgan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Todd Terry,
T.S.O.L.,
Sun City Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
John Coltrane,
Al Stewart,
The Doors,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sandy B,
Tres Demented,
Dark Day,
the Swans,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.