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 Dominica and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Swans to the grunge 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Banda Bassotti,
The Durutti Column,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Funkadelic,
Ludus,
The Doors,
Pussy Galore,
Cheater Slicks,
Angry Samoans,
Depeche Mode,
Bobby Sherman,
Mandrill,
Grauzone,
Unwound,
Make Up,
Lindisfarne,
Bill Near,
Au Pairs,
Maleditus Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
June Days,
Buzzcocks,
Arcadia,
Mr. Review,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cecil Taylor,
U.S. Maple,
Bauhaus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tubeway Army,
Underground Resistance,
The Velvet Underground,
The Beau Brummels,
The Golliwogs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Real Kids,
Monolake,
Mantronix,
Deakin,
Dark Day,
Quando Quango,
Babytalk,
Ten City,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lyres,
Stereo Dub,
Malaria!,
These Immortal Souls,
Procol Harum,
Thompson Twins,
Sparks,
Slave,
Gang Starr,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wasted Youth,
Dennis Brown,
Lakeside,
Neu!,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Searchers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Names,
Cymande,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.