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 St Lucia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lyon.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cluster to the grime 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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Franke,
Trumans Water,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Techniques,
The Searchers,
The Red Krayola,
Youth Brigade,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Blackbyrds,
The American Breed,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Icehouse,
L. Decosne,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Saints,
Subhumans,
Ken Boothe,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Tears for Fears,
Porter Ricks,
Mo-Dettes,
Danielle Patucci,
Malaria!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Unrelated Segments,
Cal Tjader,
Nation of Ulysses,
DNA,
Rod Modell,
Fad Gadget,
Joy Division,
Maurizio,
Crooked Eye,
Tommy Roe,
Sparks,
Tubeway Army,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Goldenarms,
ABBA,
The Busters,
Aural Exciters,
Con Funk Shun,
Chris Corsano,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pylon,
Black Moon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Grauzone,
Main Source,
Andrew Hill,
Minutemen,
kango's stein massive,
Y Pants,
Byron Stingily,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.