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 Iran and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ 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 These Immortal Souls to the rock 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Neu!,
OOIOO,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Remains,
Arcadia,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Bananas,
Cymande,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Adolescents,
Glenn Branca,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Chris Corsano,
The Golliwogs,
Das Ding,
The Trojans,
Unrelated Segments,
Fluxion,
Zapp,
Faraquet,
Cybotron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Altered Images,
Godley & Creme,
Swans,
Tres Demented,
Index,
Sex Pistols,
Dead Boys,
Animal Collective,
Bang On A Can,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Buzzcocks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barrington Levy,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soulsonic Force,
Roxy Music,
The Walker Brothers,
Yaz,
Kas Product,
Graham Central Station,
The Five Americans,
The Mojo Men,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Country Teasers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deakin,
Parry Music,
Fear,
Guru Guru,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Don Cherry,
Joey Negro,
Michelle Simonal,
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.