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 Tunisia and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blues Magoos to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Alison Limerick,
Subhumans,
Harry Pussy,
Pierre Henry,
Hardrive,
Curtis Mayfield,
Babytalk,
Ronan,
Don Cherry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barbara Tucker,
New Age Steppers,
Black Moon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blancmange,
Neil Young,
Sight & Sound,
Lungfish,
Black Sheep,
Silicon Teens,
Michelle Simonal,
LL Cool J,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Evens,
Jerry's Kids,
Gichy Dan,
Rufus Thomas,
Amon Düül,
Ultra Naté,
The Dirtbombs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mission of Burma,
MDC,
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Sugar Minott,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crash Course in Science,
Newcleus,
Aswad,
Franke,
Electric Light Orchestra,
James White and The Blacks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Quadrant,
Sixth Finger,
The Seeds,
Second Layer,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Funky Four + One,
Lou Reed,
Magma,
Sound Behaviour,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Neon Judgement,
Y Pants,
China Crisis,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.