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 Lebanon and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marine Girls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Jandek,
Mandrill,
Gang of Four,
Excepter,
Sugar Minott,
Slave,
Robert Hood,
The Electric Prunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rites of Spring,
Little Man,
The Sound,
ABBA,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Babytalk,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Count Five,
Sam Rivers,
U.S. Maple,
The Litter,
The New Christs,
The Neon Judgement,
Jeff Lynne,
Grey Daturas,
Black Bananas,
the Germs,
Lightning Bolt,
Josef K,
Wasted Youth,
Ossler,
Monks,
Japan,
The Happenings,
Arthur Verocai,
Whodini,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fela Kuti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Newcleus,
Delta 5,
One Last Wish,
The Fugs,
David Axelrod,
Jimmy McGriff,
Surgeon,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Görl,
Todd Terry,
Ronan,
Nik Kershaw,
Hot Snakes,
Suicide,
Absolute Body Control,
Yellowson,
The Gories,
the Sonics,
The Pop Group,
Maleditus Sound,
UT,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.