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 Bolivia and from Copenhagen.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Fluxion to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Vogues,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Main Source,
Warsaw,
Laurel Aitken,
Isaac Hayes,
the Swans,
EPMD,
These Immortal Souls,
Masters at Work,
Mr. Review,
Funky Four + One,
The Fugs,
The Misunderstood,
Derrick May,
Mars,
Ossler,
Freddie Wadling,
Accadde A,
Soft Machine,
R.M.O.,
Los Fastidios,
Delon & Dalcan,
John Cale,
Reuben Wilson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Hood,
Supertramp,
ABBA,
Janne Schatter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Funkadelic,
Amon Düül,
Hoover,
Lungfish,
Rufus Thomas,
Goldenarms,
Eric Copeland,
The Offenders,
Rites of Spring,
Ornette Coleman,
Johnny Clarke,
The Toasters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minny Pops,
The Shadows of Knight,
Agent Orange,
Guru Guru,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Sheep,
Cecil Taylor,
Con Funk Shun,
Essential Logic,
The Human League,
The Kinks,
Eric Dolphy,
Scratch Acid,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.