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 Cuba and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Spokane.
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 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 John Holt to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Drexciya,
Matthew Bourne,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Raincoats,
R.M.O.,
New Order,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sugar Minott,
Harmonia,
The American Breed,
Roxy Music,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Prunes,
Gabor Szabo,
Technova,
Black Pus,
The Star Department,
Nik Kershaw,
PIL,
The Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
X-101,
Brass Construction,
Make Up,
David McCallum,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Public Image Ltd.,
Skarface,
Davy DMX,
Dave Gahan,
the Slits,
Pierre Henry,
The Grass Roots,
Inner City,
Smog,
The Gories,
Marine Girls,
The Dirtbombs,
Radio Birdman,
The Angels of Light,
Newcleus,
the Swans,
Joe Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Traffic Nightmare,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dual Sessions,
Slave,
John Coltrane,
Jawbox,
Ludus,
Wasted Youth,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Evens,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.