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 Angola and from New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Harry Pussy,
Wolf Eyes,
Blancmange,
The Martian,
Yazoo,
Neil Young,
La Düsseldorf,
Gang of Four,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nils Olav,
Mantronix,
Kevin Saunderson,
Theoretical Girls,
Excepter,
Pole,
Deadbeat,
Echospace,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
L. Decosne,
The Saints,
A Certain Ratio,
Youth Brigade,
Marmalade,
Nik Kershaw,
Gichy Dan,
the Bar-Kays,
Ituana,
John Holt,
Black Sheep,
Urselle,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Invisible,
Joey Negro,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Popol Vuh,
Make Up,
The Remains,
Ultravox,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Smooth,
Ice-T,
The American Breed,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Intrusion,
The Victims,
Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Skarface,
Moebius,
Fluxion,
Albert Ayler,
The Residents,
Ken Boothe,
Agitation Free,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Blake Baxter,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Andrew Hill,
Warren Ellis,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.