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 India and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Toasters to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
June of 44,
The Fortunes,
The Victims,
The Gories,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pussy Galore,
Simply Red,
Janne Schatter,
The Five Americans,
The Alarm Clocks,
E-Dancer,
The Toasters,
Man Parrish,
Colin Newman,
Infiniti,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Severed Heads,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pere Ubu,
Eddi Front,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mary Jane Girls,
Niagra,
Outsiders,
Carl Craig,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Raincoats,
Deakin,
Scion,
Nas,
Steve Hackett,
Todd Terry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Slackers,
The Move,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Names,
Dennis Brown,
Roxette,
Don Cherry,
Warren Ellis,
Circle Jerks,
Ultra Naté,
Bobby Byrd,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cheater Slicks,
Heaven 17,
Echospace,
Quantec,
New Order,
UT,
Leonard Cohen,
Motorama,
Albert Ayler,
Peter and Kerry,
Duran Duran,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Unwound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.